


When Meddling with Time, Wear Sunscreen

by AnonymousObsesser



Series: When Meddling with Time, Wear Sunscreen [1]
Category: Arrowverse - Fandom, DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Children, Angst with a Happy Ending??? I guess, Barry isn't as weak as before? kinda, Barry's Not Okay [He Promises], Brief Appearances of Officer Johnson, Canonical Character Death, David Singh is the light of Barry's life for about ten minutes, Dissociation, Eventual Coldflash/Lenarry, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Gen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Joe Hates Lewis, Joe West is kind of a horrible person for a few chapters, Len is the Bomb with People Having Panic Attacks, Lewis Snart is Still an Asshole, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Somewhat Graphic Depiction of Death, Somewhat Graphic Depiction of Injury, Sorry Not Sorry, The Rogues are Little and Adorable and Cute and Perfect, Tony is Still a Douche, and then better, and then better probably, and then worse, basically everything is different and the same and I'll just say, but he still gets beat up because come on it's Barry, in-depth analysis of major and minor characters, in-depth analysis of timeline and timeline changes, things are gonna get much worse, this is a rewritten version of TCOT(OM)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousObsesser/pseuds/AnonymousObsesser
Summary: Len Grows Up with the Wests AU—Rewritten (aka Better) Version of my other story.Something went wrong with time, because this is NOT what was supposed to happen...Surely Barry Allen and Iris West shouldn't be living with Leonard and Lisa Snart? No way could they be friends with the Mardons and the Dillons and Mick Rory and Hartley Rathaway??? And how are Cisco and Ronnie here?????Bad guys are good guys and good guys are...still good guys, but some bad guys are still bad guys. So...how does this change things, really?More than you think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories and Explanations.
> 
> Basically, the Speed Force and the Time Stream are frenemies and hate each other's children--but they both hate Eobard Thawne.

Let’s be real here—just for a second, okay? Just a sec, and then we can get into this...complete mess of life.

Alright. In all actuality...the timeline was never really _right_ , okay? Really, if you’re going with the whole Multiverse Theory, or even with any kind of theory in which the timeline in malleable (which, duh, it obviously _is_ , since clearly it’s already so, _so_ fucked up), well—if it can be changed, who could really say what’s _right_ , right? Maybe in the beginning, before speedsters and time machines and...whatever else can travel through time and across dimensions... _maybe_ then the timeline was correct.

Actually, no, you can’t even say that, because time travelers have traveled back at _least_ to Ancient Egypt, and there _was_ that whole thing with the Jurassic Period, so—yeah, no.

How can you possibly say that anything is really wrong with the timeline at any given point? Well, okay, you _can_ , you’d just need an enormous amount of proof.

Anyway, there are a lot of theories about how time works.

The Multiverse Theory basically says that every choice creates a new destiny. So if a decision has three different choices, two other timelines are created in addition to the one you stick with. Which, when you think about it, is pretty crazy. There are _billions_ of people on Earth, let alone in the rest of the Universe. In one lifetime, each person makes…what? A million billion decisions? And then that value has to be permutated throughout the Universe, which gives you a number that—even in scientific notation—is definitely _not_ going to fit on the screen of your calculator.

There’s another version of the Multiverse Theory that says only prominent historical events get their own timeline, but that doesn’t make any sense, because any historical event could become prominent in the future without anyone realizing it will. Unless, of course, you follow the explanation of that theory, which pretty much says that there’s an omniscient being in control of the Time Stream that makes all the decisions of where said Stream goes. When you really think about it, though, that’s kind of messed up. Some all-powerful being gets to make decisions about how important any given choice is? The problem with being all-powerful is that you’re _all-powerful_. You aren’t living, because you’re busy controlling the life of everything else.

Another theory is that Time is linear—meaning that the entire timeline is already planned out, past, present, and future, so that any decision you make has actually already been made. This is where the My-Grandpa-Is-Me Paradox lies. You go back in time, accidentally fall for your grandmother, who has one of your parents, who has you, who then goes back in time to fall in love with your grandmother, thereby “closing the loop”. Obviously, this is bogus. Say you go back in time to kill someone for ruining your life. If you go back and kill them when they were a kid, long before you ever met them…then how do they ruin your life and therefore prompt you to go back in time to kill them?

The theory that we—well, really, you’re being forced to agree to it, so let’s not jump to “we” just yet, huh?

The theory that is _relevant_ to this story is the Butterfly Effect; mostly, this one deals with the assumption that every decision has consequences that ripple throughout the timeline. These decisions can be changed, though, manipulated by anyone at any time.

(This causes a _lot_ of problems, past, present, and future, but we’ll get to that in a second.)

The Butterfly Effect isn’t one thing, and it often brings many different theories to the table. The most important thing to remember, though, is that events are not mutually exclusive.

A time traveler can go back in time and crush his enemy without risking the possibility that the enemy not being around will make him never go back and kill and…you get the picture.

A speedster can—well, let’s actually expand on this.

First, we go back to the Sentient Theory. There _are_ sentient beings that control the Universe, just…not in the way you probably are thinking.

Time, Speed, Space, and Death. They’re the only ones that really matter, and even the last two are relatively unimportant.

Space never shows its face to anyone, and mostly only uses its power in relation to Speed and Time. Death is never seen by anyone. Not ever.

So Time and Speed are the only ones that really matter, especially in this story. They do not get along. That’s not to say that they specifically go against each other, because then nothing would ever go right. No, it’s more like sibling rivalry. Very much, “This is my toy, you can’t have it!” and, “Everything you own is _stupid_ anyway!”

Yeah. That’s what I said.

The Time Stream does not like Speedsters. No way, Jose. They’re horrible and destructive and just the worst thing ever, coming in and wrecking everything.

The Speed Force hates Time Travelers. Actually, genuinely despises them. They’re crude and inelegant and they ruin everything.

See? Anyway, back to this Butterfly Effect thing.

If there was ever a speedster that fucked up the timeline more than Barry Allen a.k.a. the Flash, it was his archenemy. Eobard Thawne, a.k.a. Reverse-Flash, went back in time to kill Barry as a kid. But Barry from 2024 chased him and saved himself, and in the process, pissed Eo off, so Eo went ahead and killed Barry’s mom—his hope, his joy.

In the original timeline—before Nora Allen died—Barry got his powers in November of 2020. The STAR Labs Particle Accelerator, finished in January, didn’t exactly _explode_ so much as it _radiated_. Over the course of two months, the machine seeded the air of Central City with itty-bitty transmutations. It wasn’t anything that was concerning, it didn’t even show up on a Geiger Meter, but anyone who was in Central who had what they called the “Metahuman Gene” was affected.

In early February, a storm knocked the power out across the entire city. Different parts of the storm were the catalyst for different powers. Most metas’ powers were triggered by the general chaos. Some didn’t even realize until days, weeks, months later.

Barry, in particular, was unaware of his powers for months.

Mostly because he was unconscious for nine months. But, hey—details.

Anyway, a lot—like, a _lot_ —of the metas didn’t really appear until Barry woke up and figured out, “Hey, I’ve got superspeed!”

The reason for the odd delay was never really figured out, but it’s true.

So Barry becomes the Flash in November 2020. At some point, he learns that he can travel through time…and subsequently realizes how bad of an idea that was. Like, no, no, no, no. _No_. Do not. But then instead of going _back_ in time, he goes _forward_ in time for the first time ever. And he figures what can he possibly do to a timeline that hasn’t even happened yet, right?

But this timeline, in 2186, already knows all about Flash, and Eobard Thawne is an especially-hardcore fanboy. We’re talking _years_ of research. His entire career was built around learning the secrets of the Speed Force. He even had this crazy notion that he himself could be a Flash, and was determined to get speedster powers himself.

Several more years of research lead to the discovery of exactly how Barry got his powers, and Eobard recreates the accident. In 2191, he gets superspeed. Funnily enough, he figures his powers out much faster than Barry ever did.

Especially time travel.

This is a curse in disguise, though, because Eobard accidentally travels forward in time first. Maybe if he’d gone back in time, he could have become friends with Barry. But nope, he goes forward—to 2400.

(Barry has been here, too, by accident once. He and Supergirl were racing across the Multiverse and Barry accidentally opened a wormhole through time instead of a breach.)

The 25th century is known as the “Time of Heroes”, much like the 10th century BC was and the 31st century will one day be known. The 25th, though…it’s right on the cusp of the transition from the Justice League to the Legion of Superheroes, and it’s at that point in time where everyone knows everyone but nobody ever says anything.

Except.

Except Eobard runs into his future self.

Literally _runs into his future self_ ; they come out of separate wormholes less than three feet away from each other and almost whack heads.

Eo finds out that he’s destined to become Reverse-Flash. Not Flash himself, but someone who is in direct opposition to anything and everything Flash stands for. His greatest enemy.

(His future self actually uses the term _archenemy_. Really? Who _says_ that? Apparently him, in the future.)

Eobard doesn’t really think much of it at the time. But then he goes back to…sometime, he doesn’t even get the chance to see where he’s landed—he’s pretty sure it’s almost home, but not positive—and Flash picks him up and basically it’s this Huge Epic Speedster Battle between Barry and Eo.

Flash is in a bad, bad mood.

Eobard isn’t really sure what happened, so he tries to get through to the kid—and he really is just a kid, holy shit, he can’t be older than thirty-five and he looks like he’s twenty—but Barry just keeps coming and he has to defend himself.

At some point, he figures out that Flash is actually coming after him because of something that future self of his did, and he tries to explain that he hasn’t done it yet and it isn’t his _fault_. But Flash is pretty much insisting that just because he hasn’t done it yet doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty.

And, ooh, does that sting.

Eventually, Eo gets away. He’s _pissed_. Like…imagine Hulk-like rage, but replace the Gamma Radiation with Speed Force. It’s bad.

And so he becomes Reverse-Flash.

He and Flash fight. A _lot_. 22nd century, 10th century, 35th century…it doesn’t matter. You name the time, they’ve fought then.

Reverse-Flash makes it his new life’s purpose to kill the Flash, and, you know, prove he’s superior as a speedster or whatever. Which lead him into this horrid spiral into straight-up insanity and just fulfills prophesy in a very ugly way.

For every life Barry saved, Eobard killed ten more. Every person who ever loved Barry, Eobard vowed to destroy.

In 2021, Barry creates Gideon.

In 2022, Eobard steals a copy of her.

(Of course, like a moron, he doesn’t recalibrate the machine. Theoretically speaking, Barry could still give Gideon orders that would both overrule his own and be impossible for her to refuse.)

A year of research and time jumps to places the Flash was active leads Eobard to learning when Barry is actually from.

26 January 2016.

Which…needs to be explained.

Eobard isn’t really sure how, well, _this_ works. Because Barry shouldn’t be the Flash until 2020. That was the whole point of going back to 2016—to catch him defenseless, before the lightning.

And yet…here he is? In 2016? With powers?

This is Eobard’s first inkling that something horrible must have happened to the timeline at some point, and therefore the first time he begins suspecting that time isn’t quite as linear as people think it is.

Eobard learns quite a bit from this visit. Barry Allen is twenty-six years old. He works in the CSI Division of the CCPD as an _assistant_ CSI—he doesn’t even have his own lab yet. It’s _pathetic_.

He also learns that Barry and Iris aren’t together yet. But that doesn’t tell him much, anyway, because from everything he’s read, it sounds like they got married at twenty-nine after dating for two years, give or take. He didn’t remember them being this close without dating, though, so…

(There are a _lot_ of articles and stories about the West-Allen relationship where Eo comes from. Eobard used to think it was…well, nice. _Destiny_. He still thinks that, kind of, but he’s also determined to destroy Barry and all he stands for, so he’ll just have to see what happens.)

Mainly, though, he figures finding Barry before the lightning isn’t enough. No, he has to go back to Barry as a child.

In any case, Eobard manages to get back to his own time. And he stays there, plotting his revenge and such, for about a year. Figuring out his plan to go back and kill little Barry Allen so he doesn’t have to deal with Flash anymore and can go on with his perfectly good life.

See above references to closed loops if that confuses you.

Anyway, then Reverse-Flash just can’t hold it in anymore. He just _has_ to gloat. So he goes to Barry in 2024.

It’s their worst fight yet. The sky is bleeding, half the city is in ruins, and there are at least eight trucks covered in flames.

For once, Barry manages to catch onto Eobard’s plan—he hardly ever manages, but if he’d just _listen_ to what Eo says every once in a while, he’d probably stop the damage before it starts.

Anyway, Reverse-Flash time jumps to the past. He meant to go back to when Barry was a baby and kill him in the cradle. But 2024 Barry catches up to him sooner than he was expecting and manages to knock him from the Time Stream eleven years too late.

18 March 2000. Four days after Barry’s 11th birthday.

It’s the middle of the night, too, and everything is quiet and peaceful in a way that it never is in the 22nd century—in Eo’s time, every city is a city that never sleeps, and Central is no exception. But in 2000? No way. Complete silence.

The fighting continues.

Eobard goes to Barry’s childhood home, still intent to kill the boy. Unfortunately, 2024 Barry manages to get 2000 Barry out of harm’s way before Eo can manage to inflict his vengeance. Instead, Eobard kills Barry’s mother.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand this is where it gets weird. Technically speaking…there were _four_ Barrys there that night. The one who Eo fought from 2024, the eleven-year-old from 2000, one from 2015, and one from 2016.

The first two have legitimate reasons for being there. One lived there, the other was fighting someone to keep the one that lived there safe. The other two, Eobard didn’t know. But we do.

The one from 2015 was there to try to save his mom. The one from 2016 was there to tell him not to do it—he speaks from experience, being from when the timeline was reset from Flashpoint.

But we’ll get to that later. Right now, there’s another problem.

Eobard—the one Barry brought back to kill his mom once the whole Flashpoint thing crashed and burned—went on to create the Legion of Doom. When that failed, he was erased from existence.

Technically.

In actuality, it is, of course, much more complicated than that. There was another version of Eobard, the one that went back to 2016 and was later released by Barry to return to his time, who was floating around out there, and he found out about everything—Nora’s original death, his eventual defeat by Eddie’s sacrifice, his other eventual death via the legends and Black Flash—and decided to attempt to correct everything.

Again.

Oh, boy.

There’s this wild, crazy theory about time travel that doesn’t even have a name yet because it’s so out there that no one in our world can even imagine what it would look like. But on this world, they know exactly what it looks like, because it happens.

(Still no name yet, though, they should get on that. Maybe ask Cisco.)

The theory is sort of like the Butterfly Effect, except it worked in both directions. Rather than only rippling outward through the Time Stream, changes to the timeline bring things—events, people, objects, you name it—away from when they originally existed and towards some other point in time.

The Legends are the only ones who’ve actually seen these “anachronisms” happen, actually watched and witnessed the whole thing, but it happens again on a somewhat smaller scale (at least relative to what the Legends see) when Eobard goes back for the _third_ time to kill Barry.

Or his mom. Or whatever.

The point is, he fucks up, okay?

Everything’s screwed.

Now, listen: Time and Speed aren’t always separate. They do come together and meld occasionally. Usually, they only do this when it’s beneficial to themselves, e.g. when a speedster screws with them one too many times and needs to be taught a lesson.

Barry Allen and the Legends (and to a lesser extent the Time Bureau) can get away with a lot of it. Barry is kind of like the favorite child of the Speed Force, while the Legends are favorites of the Time Stream. _But_ the Time Stream hates Barry and the Speed Force hates the Legends—the former is because Barry screws up a lot, the latter is because the entity in control is of the thought that you should only be able to do things if it is in your natural ability to do so i.e. timeships are abominations.

Eobard Thawne is the favorite of no one. He gets _one_ free pass. Anything after that is met with full consequences.

And that’s where the real problem comes, because his one free pass was when he went back the first time. The second time was technically Barry, so it doesn’t really count.

The third time? _After_ he already messed with Barry twice and the Legends for an entire year? Nuh-uh. No way. Not okay.

So the Time Stream and the Speed Force team up to screw Eo over so completely he doesn’t know up from down anymore when faced with this Brave New World.

Like—no West-Allen? Eddie Thawne is actually not a failure? Leonard Snart doesn’t steal diamonds for a living? Hartley Rathaway and Ronnie Raymond are…friends? Nothing makes any kind of sense anymore, and that isn’t even counting the age changes.

Yeah, the _things_ that got dragged through time here? _Births_. Specifically, the births of half of Team Flash and most of the Rogues. Some stayed the same, others are older than they should be, and the rest are younger than they should be. Hell, four people who were born in ‘85 are now born in ‘86, and the one person who was born in ‘86 was born in ‘87. And they aren’t even related to Team Flash! Not really!

None of this is okay.

It. Makes. Zero. Sense.

But Eobard is just gonna have to deal with it until he can get back to his real and true timeline (he hopes) and hopefully just go back to being the greatest of Flash’s enemies and…you know…whatever else he would have done before all this.

Oh, honey. You’re in for a rude awakening.

The Time Stream and the Speed Force may have done this to punish you…

…but they love this timeline more than the OG one, and they aren’t going to give it back.

_Ever._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Births and lives and new timelines.
> 
> People grow up--But I won't spoil too much of the story.

Okay, so.

In the OG Timeline—that means the one before the first time Eobard went back to kill Barry, just for future reference—everyone was born in a relatively orderly fashion. This didn’t change with the Pre-Flashpoint or the Flashpoint Timeline or even the _Post_ -Flashpoint Timeline. But it does now.

Anyone born before, like…1970 is safe. They were all born exactly when they were born before and went through things in exactly the same way. People born _after_ 1970, though, don’t have that guarantee. Some were affected, some weren’t.

Let’s see. Why don’t we just, uh—start at the beginning, yeah? Okay.

On Friday, 8 June 1945, Talia al Ghul is born to Ra’s al Ghul and a young female League member who dies in childbirth.

At almost the exact opposite side of the globe, Lewis Snart is born on Sunday, 12 February 1950 in Central City, Missouri.

Halfway across the country, in Ivy Town, Connecticut, Martin Stein is born on Thursday, 16 March 1950. Two years later, in Central City, Clarissa Clemens is born on Sunday, 7 December 1952—this is Martin’s future wife.

On Saturday, 22 January 1955, Henry Allen is born in Fallville, Iowa. Four years later, in the same small town, his future wife is born as Nora Thompson on Tuesday, 24 March 1959.

In Starling City, later to be known as Star City, California, Robert Queen is born on Saturday, 12 July 1958. Six years later, Moira Dearden is born on Monday, 27 January 1964 in the same city.

In Nanda Parbat in 1960, a fifteen-year-old Talia al Ghul meets Sara Lance and learns that she will someday gain a sister. She and her father are very close and remain so for a long time. After her sister’s birth in 1986, however, things become strained. Talia comes to realize that she will never be allowed to take over as Ra’s al Ghul, and it puts a damper on her plans and outlook. In 1995, she leaves to live her own life, though not without taking a sample from the Lazarus Pit for future use. She abandons her sister and puts together her own cult, living her life as she pleases and taking on new students when she sees potential.

Back in Starling, Quentin Lance is born on Monday, 5 March 1962. Just over a year later, Dinah Drake—later to be named Dinah Lance—is born on Monday, 11 March 1963.

William Tockman is born in Starling on Thursday, 11 March 1965—his sister, Beverly, is born three years later.

Also in 1965, Martin Stein becomes a rabbi at fifteen—a few months later, he is enrolled in MIT, skipping his high school sophomore, junior, and senior years. He graduates from MIT in 1957, enrolling immediately in the University of Chicago and graduating from there in 1970. By 1973, he’s back in Ivy Town, working at the local university as a Physicist-type Professor. In 1975, in October, Martin meets Clarissa Clemens, the niece of a work associate, and falls in love. They marry in 1988 and have a daughter a year later. Martin continues teaching in Ivy Town, though by 1999, they’ve moved to Central City, where Martin teaches less and focuses on family more.

Arthur King, later know as Malcolm Merlyn, is born on Friday, 11 March 1966 in Starling City, though his family moves around a lot. Then, in Australia, Slade Wilson is born on Thursday, 10 October 1968.

Also in 1968, Lewis Snart graduates from Central City High School at age eighteen and immediately enlists in the army. At age twenty, he is (or somehow manages to be) honorably discharged and sent home. Back in Central, he treads along in life until he turns twenty-one. In June 1971, having turned twenty-one, he enrolls in the Central City Police Academy, and a year and change later he becomes an officer at the Central City Police Department. (He’s horrible. Really, truly horrible. In all honesty, he’d be a great officer…if he wasn’t so dirty. He never leaves proof, no one knows for a fact that he’s breaking the law or abusing his power, but…it happens.) Anyway, he meets and marries a lovely Jewish woman named Lenora in 1985, and they have a son in 1988—she dies in childbirth. Five years later, in early 1993, Lewis meets and marries another woman—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed sweetheart named Carrie—and in 1994, they have a daughter. Things snowball from there.

In Central City, Joe West is born on Saturday, 18 January 1969. Within the same city, less than a year later, Francine Russell is born on Tuesday, 12 May 1970.

In 1974, Henry Allen graduates from high school and enrolls in medical school in Central City. Seven years later, he’s in the middle of his Master’s Degree when he meets Nora Thompson, a girl he vaguely remembers seeing in the grocery store back in Fallville. She’s studying to be a pediatrician—is actually three years into her schooling—and Henry is paired with her on a project in a class he’d failed three years ago and is only just then retaking. The two start dating. In 1983, they get engaged; by the spring of 1985, they’re married, and in the summer, Nora graduates from medical school as Dr. Allen only three years after her husband. After three years, Nora gets the news—she’s pregnant with their first child. It’s a boy, and he’s born in 1989.

In June 1976, at age seventeen, Robert Queen graduates from Starling High School, and he enrolls in the Navy three months later. In less than five years, he’s climbed the naval rankings from a simple recruit to a Commander. In 1981, he’s honorably discharged when an accident prevents him from participating in long terms at sea. At twenty-three, he begins the process of starting his own company. It’s a simple thing, it turns out, to get patents and funding, especially with his credentials in the military, and by 1984 he’s got a multimillion-dollar company on its way to becoming a Fortune 500 competitor. Late in the year of 1983, he hires Moira Dearden as his Vice President after she, working as a secretary in one of the lesser divisions at the time, inadvertently helps him secure a deal with an overseas contractor. He soon begins courting her. In 1985, the day the listing for the Fortune 500 companies comes out with Queen Consolidated taking a spot in the top five, Robert asks Moira to marry him, and they tie the knot two months later and become pregnant with their first child while on their honeymoon. They have a son in 1986, and Moira gets pregnant again to have a daughter in 1995.

Back in Starling City, John Diggle is born on Thursday, 17 November 1977—his brother, Andy, is born three years later, on Thursday, 28 August 1980.

In 1980, at age eighteen, Quentin Lance graduates high school and enlists in the army. He’s honorably discharged in 1982, and moves back to Starling City. At twenty-one, he enrolls in the Starling Police Academy, and a year later he’s working the beat in the Glades. He’s promoted to Detective half a year later, and his first homicide case takes him to Starling City University, where he meets History major Dinah Drake, who…pretty much blows up at him for no reason, almost getting herself arrested. Later—much, _much_ later, at least a month—Dinah comes to see Quentin at the station to apologize, and the two soon fall in love. By ‘85, they’re married, and Dinah has a baby girl in ‘86. Another follows in 1988.

In 1983, an eighteen-year-old William Tockman enlists in the military. His formerly weird obsession with timekeeping now comes in handy when in tactical training, and he climbs the ranks to Sergeant easily. Every penny of his thirty-thousand-dollar salary goes to making sure his sister, Beverly, who was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis as a baby, has all the medicine and medical equipment she needs to live. In ‘05, at age forty, William is dishonorably discharged after one too many _misunderstandings_ between the members of his squadron and himself. With this particular disgrace hanging over his head, he finds it hard to get back on his feet, and does the only other thing he feels he can. He turns to a life of crime. (Honestly, the logic of these people.) At forty-three, he’s diagnosed with MacGregor’s Syndrome. Things really only go downhill from there.

In March of 1985, nineteen-year-old United States Air Force Academy recruit Arthur King receives orders to investigate a theft from one of the larger historical collection houses in London. He sets out immediately after hearing exactly what was stolen, because it just so happens that the collection robbed was his own, passed down from his parents who died the year before. It doesn’t take long to find the culprit. Rather than turn her in, he joins her and her team—an underground organization called The Hidden that recruits scholars and soldiers alike and trains them to steal and protect artifacts around the world as part of their modern-day crusade—and quickly becomes a valuable informant and seeker. Within a month, though, he’s been kicked out and is being pursued by said group. He goes into hiding, changing his name to Malcolm Merlyn and moving back to Starling City in May, and he meets Rebecca Moran as he’s exiting his terminal—he offers to replace the shirt he spilt her coffee all over, as well as the coffee, and she accepts. It’s not long before they’re seeing each other regularly, which soon leads to Rebecca getting pregnant. They get married soon after finding out, and Malcolm sets about making sure they can live comfortably by creating his own company, branded Merlyn Global. By the time Rebecca gives birth to their son in early 1986, Merlyn Global is well on its way to rivaling Queen Consolidated in its business ventures.

This is pretty much where it gets _really_ crazy, because a _lot_ of stuff happens in a very short amount of time. Okay.

In 1985, in Ivy Town, Ray Palmer is born on the 9th of October, on a Wednesday. Three months later, in Central City, Dinah Drake (no relation to Mrs. Lance) is born on Wednesday, 1 January 1986. Over in Starling City, Tommy Merlyn is born on Saturday, 1 February 1986.

Halfway across the globe, in the hidden mountain city of Nanda Parbat, Nyssa Raatko is born to Ra’s al Ghul and his concubine, Amina Raatko, on Saturday, 10 May 1986—shortly thereafter, as Amina tries fruitlessly to escape the city, she is killed by a League member. Ra’s mourns her death greatly, but moves on quickly in order to keep the League together and take proper care of his new daughter.

Back in Starling, Oliver Queen is born on Friday, 16 May 1986. Only a few months later, Curtis Holt is born on Friday, 29 August 1986, joining another two-year-old son in the household.

Also in Starling, Laurel Lance is born on Tuesday, 25 November 1986. Two years later, as the pretty Christmas Day snow fell upon Starling in white sheets, Sara Lance is born on Sunday, 25 December 1988. (Later, after all is said and done and she’s died four times in three years, someone will make the joke that it’s funny she was born on the holiest day of all—it being Christmas _and_ a Sunday—considering the whole soulless thing. She’ll just grin and say, “Could’a been worse. Could’a been born on Easter Sunday—imagine _that_ irony.”)

Back in 1986, Rory Regan is born on Monday, the 22nd of December. The next year, Adrian Chase is born on Tuesday, the 21st of April.

In June of ‘87, at age eighteen, Joe West graduates from Central City High School and starts a job at the local supermarket, bagging groceries for six months and saving up his money before moving out of his father’s house and into an apartment closer to the city. He’s only there for a month, though, before he enrolls in Central City Police Academy in early February 1988. He graduates in record time, becoming a beat cop at the Central City Police Department in April. When Francine Russell graduates high school in June, Joe goes to her father to ask permission to marry her, and the man agrees. They marry in August of 1988, and by September, Francine is pregnant with a baby girl, who is born in 1989. Francine had a horrible drug addiction. In early spring of 1995, Joe West gets a call from a little girl saying that her mother had passed out—this turned out to be his own five-year-old daughter, and he came home to find Francine passed out and his baby girl standing next to an open flame burning on the stove. Francine leaves shortly after that, and Joe tells their daughter that she died. Unbeknownst to Joe at the time, Francine is already pregnant when she leaves, and gives birth to their son in her exile. In ‘96, Joe is promoted from beat cop to Detective at the CCPD.

In 1986, having graduated from high school in Australia, Slade Wilson enrolls in University. There, he meets a woman named Adeline. They’re friends for a long, long time—until the mid-nineties—and their friendship lasts well into Slade’s career as an ASIS agent. In 1994, while Slade is on leave from his unit, Adeline asks him out for the first time. They marry in 1997, but don’t get much of a honeymoon before Slade ships out again with his partner, Billy Wintergreen. In 2001, when Slade is home for a full year, Adeline becomes pregnant with a son and gives birth in 2002; they name the child Joe and choose Billy to be his godfather. Slade gets a desk job with ASIS in order to remain close to his family—this is true until early 2006, when he and his old partner are tasked with rescuing Yao Fei Gulong from Lian Yu. The team’s plane is shot out of the sky on the way to the air strip, and the two are captured by Edward Fyers, who asks both Slade and Billy to join his cause. Slade refuses—his friend did not. Slade is held prisoner for almost a year until Yao Fei frees him. The two hide in the wreckage of Slade’s plane. They plan to escape the island by stealing a new plane that made regular stops on the island, but before they could do so, they were separated. Soon after, Slade gets a new partner, and after a long journey, returns home.

Over in Central City, Dante Ramon is born on Saturday, 3 Jan 1987. Caitlin Snow is born on Saturday, 19 September 1987. Later, Bette Sans Souci is born on Sunday, 6 December 1987. In only a few months, Mick Rory is born on Wednesday, 17 February 1988, quickly followed by Leonard Snart on the 2nd of June of the same year, a Thursday; he himself is followed by Shawna Baez on a Monday, the 20th of that very month. Sam Scudder is born on Saturday, 24 September 1988.

Also in Central City, Tony Woodward is born on Thursday, the 22nd of December. Roy Bivolo is born on Saturday, 21 January 1989. Less than three weeks later, Mark Mardon is born on Tuesday, on the 8th of February. The next month, on Pie Day of 1989, a Tuesday, Barry Allen is born.

Across the river in Keystone City, Kansas, Eddie Thawne is born on a Thursday, the 6th of April in 1989.

Two weeks later, back in Central, Cisco Ramon is born on Thursday, 20 April 1989. The very next day in the very same hospital, Ronnie Raymond is born. A few weeks later, twin siblings Rosa and Roscoe Dillon are born on Thursday, on May the 4th.

(Stop that laughing, this is serious!)

Jake Simmons is born on the 24th of the same month, a Wednesday. A month later, on Saturday, the 24th of June, Iris West is born.

A week later, in Starling City, Rene Ramirez is born on Friday 30 June 1989—less than a month later, on Monday, the 24th of July, Felicity Smoak is born.

Back in Central, Lily Stein is born on Tuesday, the 24th of October. Soon after, on Friday, the 10th of November, Hartley Rathaway is born. On Thursday, 8 March 1990, Axel Walker is born. A new Mardon brother comes to be just over a year later—Clyde, born on Friday, the 12th of April in 1991.

Over in Starling, Roy Harper (Jr.) is born on Saturday, 13 July 1991.

In 1994, in Central City, baby Lisa joins her brother in the Snart household on Monday, the 8th of August.

Back in Starling, Thea Queen is born on Saturday, 21 January 1995.

In Keystone City, Kansas, Wally West is born on Tuesday, 19 December 1995.

Two days later, in the Glades of Starling City, Rebecca Merlyn is killed by Danny Brickwell as she and her husband, Malcolm, are out buying a last-minute present for Tommy Merlyn. Brickwell demanded that they hand over all their jewelry and money—both complied, but the gang member fired his weapon anyway. The bullet grazed Malcolm’s arm and hit Rebecca in the chest. As Brickwell ran off, Malcolm attempted to call for help. No ambulance came, and no one passing them on the street would stop to help. Malcolm was both devastated by the death of his wife and furious with the citizens of the Glades. He stays in the city only long enough to bury Rebecca, then leaves town—abandoning his nine-year-old son, Tommy, in the process. He does not return until Tommy is sixteen years old and wraps his first car around a telephone pole. Tommy and Malcolm get closer once again as Malcolm stays in town for the next few years, though it isn’t the close relationship they had when Tommy was younger; Tommy still spends more time clubbing or hanging out with Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance than he does at home, but he and Malcolm do have dinner twice a month, and Tommy at least tries to pay attention to his father’s business.

In June of 1996, John Diggle enlists in the US Army. By 2005, he holds the rank of Sergeant and is joined by his brother, Andy, after a particularly bad fight between them over Andy dealing drugs—during which John beat Andy until the younger man couldn’t see straight and the elder’s knuckles were rubbed raw and his wrist was fractured—ended in John forcing Andy to join the Army as a way to go straight. In 2008, John meets and marries Lyla Michaels, but they divorce after less than a year. Also in 2008, Andy meets and marries a woman named Carly, and they have a son named A.J.. In late 2010, John learns that Andy has been killed by Floyd Lawton.

In Starling City, Evelyn Sharp is born on Friday 5 November 1999.

By June 2002, Ray Palmer has already graduated from Ivy High School at sixteen, immediately enrolling in MIT only to graduate in 2005 and enroll in Metropolis University in Metropolis, Kansas. Martin Stein teaches there—it’s a two-hour train ride from his home in Central City—and Ray quickly becomes one of his best pupils. Ray graduates in 2009 and moves back to Ivy Town, where, in 2011, he meets Anna Loring. The two fall in love and get engaged on Valentine’s Day of 2013.

In 2006, at the age of eighteen, Dinah Drake enrolls in the Central City Police Academy. She graduates on her 21st birthday. After three years of being a beat cop, she gets promoted to a detective. She specializes in undercover work—her first assignment is with a street gang called the Pilgrims, where she trains in bo-staff fighting. In 2013, Dinah is going by the name Tina Boland in order to go after Sean Sonus—the target discovers that Tina’s an undercover cop and tortures her for two weeks, eventually capturing and killing her partner and secret boyfriend Vincent Sobel. Dinah is devastated.

…Aaaaand…that’s basically it…You’ll notice I didn’t explain everyone’s story, well—that’s because we’ll get to it at some point. Probably. Also, basically everything is the same for some of them, and you don’t really want to hear that all again. And if it isn’t the same, well, it’s probably so drastically different that it made its way into this story, so I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.

Well then. Where to start…Hmm…

Let’s start with Barry, and how his life snowballed from the tender age of six into adulthood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

We’ve all heard the story, right?

Boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy and girl get married, boy and girl live happily ever after in their nice house with the white picket fence and their two-point-five children.

But life doesn’t work that way, does it? No, life is messy. It’s complicated.

And that’s just for _normal_ people. Add superpowers, at least five changes to the timeline, and several people claiming to be your archenemy, and you’ve got a cluster-fuck of "messed up" with your name _all over it_.

Pardon the language, but it’s been a rough couple of years. Actually, make it a rough _life_ , because things really started almost two decades ago.

Really, if the universe would just give him a _break_ once in a while without immediately going into world-ending catastrophe, that’d be _great_.

As it is, Barry Allen has had a hell of a trip.

First he was bullied.

Then his mom died, killed by something completely impossible. (Given the time period, at the very least.)

Then he was adopted into the house of his best friend, who he happened to have a crush on at the time.

Then, to make things so much worse, two _more_ kids came to live with them—the older of which, who was half a year older than Barry, Barry developed a huge crush on and eventually fell completely in love with.

Then he got struck by lightning— _lightning,_ man,  _how even—_ lost almost ten months of his life to a coma, and woke up with superpowers that, honestly, are almost more trouble than they’re worth.

Admittedly, it wasn’t all bad. He had friends along the way, and he had people who loved him and took care of him. There were ups and there were downs, there were people who dropped out of his life and new people to take their place. He always powered through.

Even if it was mostly just by the skin of his teeth.

Even if, sometimes, he didn’t really want to bother.

Enough of that morbid stuff, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He made a new friend today. You want me to get him?”  
> -  
> “Me and Daddy can be partners! I don’t like the one he got now, he’s old and mean.”  
> -  
> “The Princess of Central City!"  
> -  
> “West, I need you to watch Lisa tonight.”  
> -  
> "My brudda Lenny wa’ nine, but now he more. One more den nine."  
> “Ten.”  
> "Yes! Ten! Lenny ten!"  
> -  
> "Ooh! Pr’tee y’low! Gold pr’teer, doh."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets a new friend (or two).
> 
> Also, little Lisa is the cutest cutie to ever cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

The first major event—no, no, that’s not right.

Actually, it should be, the first major event _that people knew about_ happened when Barry was almost seven years old.

It was a nice autumn day outside. It was chilly, but not cold enough yet to be worrying, and there wouldn’t be snow for at least another few weeks.

The day was Tuesday, so Doctor Henry Allen was set to pick his son up from school.

His wife, Doctor Nora Allen, was already at home making dinner, and he knew Barry would be excited, because it was Taco Tuesday. It only came around once every couple of months, and little six-year-old Barry was always so pumped when it came around again.

(It was the same with Meatloaf Monday and Stir Fryday. So, really, almost any day that included his parents cooking.)

When Henry pulled up to the school, however, Barry wasn’t sitting in his usual seat with his teacher. Instead, a different teacher came over to his car, knocking on the window. He rolled it down, leaning over.

The teacher smiled. "Doctor Allen, right? I’m one of Barry’s music teachers."

"Oh. Hello," Henry said politely. "Is Barry inside?"

She nodded, still smiling. "He made a new friend today, and he didn’t want to come outside until he had to. You want me to get him?"

Henry laughed. "A new friend. Huh. Really? Well, they must be special. I just might have to see for myself."

When the two got to the classroom, Henry couldn’t help but stand and watch for a minute.

It wasn’t that Barry wasn't social, per se. It was just that when he tried to connect with kids they weren’t always the most receiving of his personality. Barry was sweet, but he came on strong sometimes, and he was so bright it was almost blinding.

Now, though, he seemed to have found someone that was just right to be his friend.

Henry recognized her on the spot—one wasn’t friends with Detective Joe West without getting an earful and a half from him about his perfect little girl, Iris. She and Barry made quite the pair, sitting on the carpet with a puzzle in front of them. It seemed like Barry was explaining what the picture was—some kind of dinosaur—and Iris was listening with rapt attention. She laughed sometimes, and Barry just… _lit up_.

"I’ve never seen him so excited," he told one of the teachers. “Not around other kids, at least.”

He nodded in agreement. "They get along really well. Iris is new to the class. She was switched out of another class because she wouldn’t talk to most of the kids. We were afraid that it would be the same here, but she gravitated towards Barry almost immediately." He smiled. "It’s nice. Both of them are bringing each other out of their shell."

Henry chuckled. "It reminds me of myself and her father, really."

The teacher just smiled.

Barry caught sight of him then. "Daddy!" he cheered, waving. "Look! I got a friend. Her name is Iris!"

"Hello, Iris," Henry said politely, kneeling next to the kids.

Both of them stood up, and Iris held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, mister," she said cutely as they shook hands. She did a little curtsy before suddenly clapping excitedly. "Barry says you’re a doctor! Do you have a steh-scope?" she asked cheerfully.

Henry chuckled. "You bet I do, Iris. You can call me Henry, if you like. Did Barry tell you he wants to be a doctor, too?"

Barry nodded happily. "Yup! Iris said her dad’a de-tec-tive, and she wanna be like him, too!"

"Is that right, Iris?"

"Yeah!" she cheered. "Then me and Daddy can be partners! I don’t like the one he got now, he’s old and mean." She pouted. "He threw my toy away one time cuz he said I was too old for toys."

"My, my," Henry tsked. "That does sound awfully mean."

Iris nodded with finality. "Daddy got real mad then. He always gets real mad at his partner, ‘pech’allie since Mommy went to Heaven."

He smiled sadly. Francine had gone just six months before, and it was still grating on Joe a bit.

"You tell your dad that everything’s gonna get better, okay?” he told her. “Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, sir!" she chirped.

"Well, Barry, we should get going," Henry said, patting his son on the back. "Come on, you can talk to Iris tomorrow, okay?"

Barry frowned but agreed. "Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Iris!"

"Bye, Barry!"

And that was the day that Barry and Iris became best friends for life.

* * *

Throughout the next four years, many things happened.

The first thing you should know is that most of the kids Barry went to school with were pretty normal. It wasn’t a _huge_ school, but it was big enough that the population of odd, out-of-the-box kids was pretty big but also small when you compared it to the rest of the population, who were normal, everyday variety, eat-glue-and-chew-glitter type of kids.

Most of the kids don’t matter a single bit to the rest of the story. However, that one group of wild kids will definitely be making a big difference when it comes to the story, so we may as well introduce them now, right?

Alright, so first you had the ruffians, the troublemakers, the bullies. These kids were big and rough and mean, and they always picked on anyone that was smaller than them or that they just didn’t like.

Tony Woodward was the leader of the group. He was tall and tough all over, and he was always dirty. He had braces, but he was so mean all the time that they just made him look meaner instead of dorky. He bullied Barry a lot. He’ll eventually be important, but don’t read too much into him just yet.

Next is Mick Rory. He’s hot-tempered and slightly psychotic. He liked to set stuff on fire. You really shouldn’t leave anything you hold precious anywhere near him. Ever. It’s not that he _can’t_ get better at controlling his urges, he just doesn’t want to right now. And he won’t for a long time. But the time will come, promise.

The twins, Roscoe and Rosa Dillon were so crazy and weird that they were on another level from the other weirdoes at school. They were evil—the kind of kids that would act all sweet and innocent and then put thumbtacks in your chair. Not even Tony got along with them. They stuck to themselves, didn’t socialize with anyone else, and antagonized anyone who came near them.

If there was anyone who was able to get near the twins, it was Sam Scudder. He wasn’t quite as mean as the two siblings, but his blunt sense of humor was enough for him to squeeze in with. He wasn’t better friends with them than he was with other kids, but other kids wouldn’t come near him if he was talking to them. One thing he definitely had in common with them, though, was how much he liked to look at his reflection. The three of them were crazy about their looks. It was frightening, to see a bunch of eight-year-olds so focused on keeping their skin clear and their hair perfect.

Jake Simmons was pretty much the polar opposite of Barry in every way, which probably explained why he hated the nicer kid. He was even worse than the Dillon twins in that he was needlessly cruel constantly. He pushed kids aside when he wanted to get somewhere first, he’d laugh when other kids cried, and he loved to stab other kids with colored pencils. Oddly enough, aside from his sadistic tendencies, Jake never got really emotional. He was good at problem solving, and he hated seeing the few friends he did have fighting. He said it was a worthless pass-time, like baseball. Jake also didn’t like any kind of meat; he said his family never ate "that nasty stuff", and would only eat bread and fruit cups at lunch.

Axel Walker was...well, he was Axel. He was this crazy kid who was constantly bouncing off the walls with energy. He loved painting, but not in the artistic sense—he liked to splatter it everywhere. "It’s so…wacky," he’d say, and he’d have this creepy, crazy gleam in his eye. His laugh was like a TV villain’s, probably because he watched so much TV. Axel also loved playing pranks; unlike most of the other troublemakers, though, his pranks were almost always harmless, and if anyone ever _did_ get hurt, it was an accident. He was really a sweetheart under all that chaos.

One didn’t just talk about Clyde Mardon without talking about his older brother, Mark, though the two were almost completely opposite in nature. They were in different grades, but still somehow always together. Clyde hated anything to do with authority. He threw tantrums all the time, kicking and screaming and rolling on the floor. Like Jake, he was quite stabby at times, though generally he spent his time (when he wasn’t screaming, that is) sitting by the vent in the classroom, trying to fly paper airplanes. Mark would sneak out of his classes sometimes to check on Clyde, and it was really the only time Clyde was somewhat calm and participating in class. Seeing this, Clyde’s teachers would sometimes send him down the hall to sit with his older sibling after a tantrum.

Mark was the polar opposite of Clyde. He was a quiet kind of genius, and he was generally pretty level headed. The only time he lost his cool was when people were bullying his friends or brother, or when other kids made fun of him or stole his stuff. When that kind of thing happened, he kind of lost it. Other than that, though, he was a calm, happy kid. He was friendly with most other kids, though when he and Clyde were together he was happy to just sit with him alone. He was very, _very_ protective of his little brother—it came from taking care of him for their whole lives.

Shawna Baez was one of Mark’s best friends. She was tough, not taking anyone’s crap, but she was cute and sweet and funny. She loved dancing; she never walked anywhere, only skipped and danced from one place to the next. Shawna had a ton of friends, Mark included, and she and her other best friend, Bette, were so similar it was almost eerie. Shawna came from the rougher side of town, but her mom made her go to school on the nicer side to give her a better chance. So Shawna got street smarts when she went home, but at school she could be carefree and happy, making new friends almost everywhere she went.

Bette Sans Souci had a strict home life. Her parents were retired soldiers, and her mom still trained recruits every couple of years. Bette was always more interested in saving life than taking it, herself. Her parents brought the army into every aspect of their lives, and Bette reveled in the freedom school offered her. She’d wear the stupidly plain outfits her parents gave her all the way into the school, then sneak into the bathroom and pull out a cuter outfit that Shawna gave her to change into. She always changed back by the time she went home, so her parents had no idea. Even with her different clothes, she was still just as stoic as her parents, but with a little bit more emotion. They used to move around a lot when she was a baby-child, plus she always missed the cutoff date, so by the time she got to the age she ought to go into fifth grade, she was only in third.

Roy Bivolo was a mute, at least until he was seven or eight. He just sat in the back of his class, painting all day. He got good grades and turned all his work in on time, but he got horrible participation grades. Even after he started speaking, he didn’t do it often, and it was usually just to tell people to leave him and his art supplies alone.

Once you got past the jerks and the relatively okay kids, there were a few more popular kids that were too smart for their own good.

Cisco Ramon was one of the smartest kids in class. Technically, he should have skipped a few grades in elementary school, but his parents wouldn’t let him. He was two years younger than his brother, Dante, and everyone knew that their parents favored Dante more, even though Cisco had more potential. The only thing Dante really had going for him was his musical talent. Sure, he could make some money off of that, but Cisco’s brain would keep him employed for decades longer than Dante’s fingers would. Cisco was also a lot nicer than Dante, with a sweet smile like a puppy dog and eyes that sparkled when you got his jokes.

Probably the only person Cisco didn’t get along with _at all_ was Hartley Rathaway, and not through any fault of his own. Hartley was just difficult. He was stubborn and bitter, and he had a habit of trying to prove you wrong even if you were right. Hartley was like Cisco in that the only reason he was in school with kids his age instead of skipping grade levels was because his parents hated him. They wanted a perfect child who never made any mistakes and would eventually produce an even more perfect heir. Hartley wasn’t perfect by any means, and it was probably because he hated being told what to do and often did the exact opposite.

Despite the fact that Cisco and Hartley didn’t get along with each other, they did have a common friend in Ronnie Raymond. Ronnie was smart in a more practical sense than his friends. He understood how things fit together, how things worked. He wasn’t the best at spelling or grammar or science, but give him a bunch of math equations and he could tell you the exact answer—give him a broken machine and he could tell you what was missing. It was just so obvious to him from a young age, he didn’t know any other way.

These were the kids that Barry was around most often. Some, he was at least friendly with—like Cisco, Ronnie, sometimes even Roy. Others he would never get along with—like the Dillons, Tony, and Jake.

They’d all gone to school with each other for forever (except for Bette, who moved to Central when they were all in first grade). When Iris got transferred into Barry’s class when they were both six, he was so happy to have one really good friend that he started hanging out with a few of the others, though not often and not for very long periods of time.

He especially steered clear of Tony, Jake, Mick, Sam, and the twins. They were his bullies, the only kids who made a point of picking on him every day. (Well, Mick didn’t really seek him out like the others—he had other things to do with his time.) Sometimes, Iris would yell at them, she’d save Barry, but sometimes she just wasn’t there. None of the other kids protected him like she did, and it wasn’t _enough_.

He got beat up a lot.

It’s a trend, really; his whole life feels like it’s been a vicious circle of getting the tar beat out of him. It didn’t even get that much better when he made another new best friend, and that was _years_ after he met Iris.

* * *

The first Snart that Barry ever met was actually Lisa. She was just a little girl then, and her father asked Iris’ dad to baby-sit her one night.

You might recall that mean partner Iris mentioned the first time she met Henry? Yep, that was Detective Lewis Snart.

That age-old rule about partners, how they’re _so close_ and _sometimes closer than spouses_ , did not apply to Iris’ dad and Detective Snart…at all. Not one single bit.

He and Joe West, Iris’ dad, had been assigned to each other practically since the day Joe arrived at CCPD. They’d been partners for less than a year before Joe realized how much of a sleazy, evil man the guy was. Joe _hated_ Snart—and he never hated _anyone_. They fought all the time, but the police captain at the precinct (an old, ex-army guy by the name of Fallweil) wasn’t willing to split them up for whatever reason, so they were stuck together.

The two detectives did not get along. At all.

Unlike Detective West, Snart was mean, cruel, and heartless. Anything that screamed _dirty cop_ , you can rest assured that Lewis Snart was doing it. He took bribes, stole from evidence, let people he “owed” escape custody. He wasn’t above doing whatever he wanted to quote-unquote get the job done—even though his actions tended to lead to the job _not_ getting done—and he definitely didn’t take it easy on most of his suspects. There were times he almost killed suspects before they even got to the station.

Snart was even mean in his personal life. He took candy from babies, beat his own kids half to death sometimes, even pulled criminal jobs of his own sometimes. Granted, no one really knew about those last two, but it was just a matter of time.

* * *

It’d been over two years since Barry and Iris met, and Barry spent more weekends over at her house than at his own, especially during summer.

This day was like all the others; Barry had come over to the West house for the day to play with Iris, and they were having fun in the living room, laughing and playing with their toys and sometimes watching TV.

Joe had gotten called into the station around lunchtime, even though it was supposed to be his day off, and one of the neighbors was watching them. She was a nice lady, and she didn’t say much, just sat and read a book while they carried on.

Joe didn’t get back until late afternoon, and he looked a little bit mad. But he smiled while he was playing with Iris and Barry, so Barry didn’t say anything.

When his dad came to pick him up, Barry and Iris were settling down, quietly playing with little superhero figures while Joe made dinner in the kitchen.

"Joe?" Henry called out after Barry let him in. "You in here?"

"Kitchen, Doc."

The man popped his head around the corner, saying a quick hello to his old buddy. "Everything go okay around here today?"

Joe laughed. "Barry was great. He made a new drawing, you ought’a ask him."

Henry chuckled, turning back to the living room. "Is that right, Bear? Did you draw something today?"

The boy beamed, bolting up and grabbing the paper from the table in front of him. "Look, Dad! I drew Iris as a princess!"

"Wow! This looks great, Barry," Henry said. It really was good, even for an adult drawing. He never would have expected a nine-year-old to draw something that nice. "Which princess is she?"

Barry frowned for a second, thinking. "I don’t know," he told him. "I guess—uh…The Princess of Central City!"

Henry laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. "Sure, kiddo."

"Barry let me pick the color, Dr. Henry," Iris said. "Isn’t yellow pretty?"

"It sure is, Iris." At that moment, the doorbell rang. "I’ll get it," he told Joe. "Barry, we’re getting ready to leave. Get your stuff together, okay?"

Barry nodded, grabbing his bag and putting stuff away. Henry smiled as Iris and Barry chatted cheerily as they cleaned. He went to get the door.

When he opened it, it was to see Lewis Snart standing on the porch, tapping his foot impatiently with a little girl in his arms.

The detective scowled at Henry, shifting the girl to his other side. "Doctor Allen," he said stiffly.

Henry’s eyes narrowed. "Detective Snart," he said just as coldly. "Looking for Joe?"

He nodded tightly. Henry let him in.

Joe rounded the corner, wiping his hands on a towel. "Who was—Snart," he said flatly.

His partner sighed. "West, I need you to watch Lisa tonight," he grit out. "I have to take another shift, and the babysitter is out of town."

Joe grunted. "What about your boy?"

Lewis shook his head, sitting Lisa down at the kitchen table. "Lenny’s old enough to stay at home alone. I just didn’t want to leave Lisa with him yet." He looked Joe in the eye, his own gaze steely and his posture ramrod straight. "Lisa already likes it here, I figured I’d ask you first, see if you’d take her."

The other man stayed silent for a minute.

Lewis scoffed, crossing his arms. "If you won’t take her, I’ll drop her with my buddies. Maybe I’ll leave her at the station."

"What about her ma, huh?" Joe asked finally. "Where’s she?"

"She’s resting tonight," he snarled. "Now will you watch the kid or not?"

"You can leave her here, yeah," Joe said. "But if I find out you’re lying—"

"Sure. Thanks, West." Within seconds, he was gone. He didn’t greet anyone else or say goodbye, just ditched his kid and left.

Joe sighed when the door slammed behind him, slumping into a chair. "What the hell."

The little girl Lewis had brought had been sitting quietly in her chair, but the second the door shut behind her father, she was bouncing up and away from the table.

"Ir’s!" she squealed, jumping on the older girl. "Ir’s! Hi!"

Iris giggle as the two girls hugged. "Hi, little Lisa," she squeaked. "Are you stayin’ with us?"

"Yes," Lisa said, nodding very fast. "Can we watch ‘punzel? Her hair so pr’tee!"

Iris said, "Sure." She looked over at Barry. He was standing at the door, waiting as his dad talked to Joe. "Barry!" she called. "Come meet little Lisa."

He crept closer, setting his bag back down. "Hi," he said shyly. "Your name is Lisa?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "I’s th-ee yers old."

Barry sat on his knees in front of her, smiling. "Three, huh? My name’s Barry, I’m nine, like Iris."

Lisa beamed. "My brudda Lenny wa’ nine, but now he more." She held up a finger. "One more den nine."

"Ten."

Her brows scrunched for a second, and then she smiled again. "Yes! Ten! Lenny ten!"

"He’s less than a year older than you, Bear," Joe called from the table. "Turned ten before Iris turned nine."

Henry chuckled. "That’d mean he’s just a grade older, right? Haven’t you run into each other?"

Barry and Iris both shook their heads.

"Snart’s got Leonard in school downtown, different from Iris and Barry," Joe said softly. "And he enrolled him late, so they’re actually in the _same_ grade. Can’t imagine why, and I don’t expect him to explain." He scoffed. "Hell, I don’t think I’d like the reason, anyway."

His friend sighed. "Guess not." He clapped a hand on Joe’s back, and then started towards the door. "Come on, Bear. We should get home. Mom’s making dinner for us."

"Okay, Dad!" Barry cheered. "See you later, Iris."

"Bye, Barry." She gasped. "Oh! Take your drawing!"

"That’s okay. You can keep it," he told her. "Nice to meet you, Lisa."

"You, too, B—" Her eyebrows scrunched together, her mouth working. "Bay-wa-ee. Bare-wee. Bawry." She lit up. "Yes! Bawry! Nice ta meet!" She waved cutely. "See ya."

Before he left, he heard Lisa squeal, "Ooh! Pr’tee y’low! Gold pr’teer, doh."

“Gold _is_ yellow, Lis-ey.”

“Nuh-uh!”

Later, after dinner, Barry sat in his room with his drawing supplies, doodling little pictures in his favorite sketchbook. There were pictures of superheroes, dragons, even one of a park.

The biggest one, though, took up nearly two pages.

It was a drawing of two princesses, one in shining yellow and another in glittering gold, with their arms around each other.

The girl in yellow had a bright smile and curly, dark brown hair braided and weaved through a silver crown.

The girl in gold was smaller and thinner, and her golden-brown hair curled delicately around her shoulders, held back from her sky-blue eyes with a golden tiara inlaid with diamonds that sparkled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Daddy says they got different moms. But that’s Lenny Snart, yep!"  
> -  
> "Get lost, kid. There’s no use for moronic bullies around here."  
> -  
> “The whole popular thing is stupid, anyway."  
> -  
> "Here. I think this is all of them."  
> "Th—Thanks. Um. Uh—it—it’s L—Len, right?"  
> “Yeah. Sister calls me Lenny, dear old Dad calls me Leo, but I like Len better. And you’re Barry. Right, kid? Barry Allen?”  
> “Yeah.”  
> -  
> "Hey! Leave him alone."  
> -  
> "You gotta walk, kid."  
> "I’m trying. My knee isn’t working right. I’m sorry."  
> "It isn’t your fault. Those morons are the ones with anger issues."  
> -  
> "Mom? I think I need some medicine. Do you think we have any Benadryl?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliques in an elementary school? Tch.
> 
> Enter Lenny Snart. Barry gets beat up--badly.
> 
> Also Spanish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

It wasn’t for nearly two more years that everything went so, so, _so_ horribly wrong.

By that point, Barry and Iris had been best friends for almost six years. Barry had had a crush on Iris for a while—probably before he even knew it—and almost anyone who saw them could see it. His parents definitely knew, and sometimes Joe would smile knowingly, like _he_ knew.

Barry never said a word to Iris.

They were both in the fifth grade this year, and they were doing well in school. There were many times Barry helped Iris with her Math and Science homework, but Iris helped him just as much when it came to History and English. On the weekends, they hung out at Iris’ house, playing around.

Normal childhood, normal city, normal hobbies, normal _everything_.

Exactly one month before Barry’s eleventh birthday, everything was just like normal.

The day started like any other. It was cold, but spring was approaching quickly. You could see it in the sun, in the new leaves slowly growing on the previously dead trees.

There was one glaringly obvious difference, though; there was a new kid at school, and everyone was talking about him.

He arrived at school on a Monday. Apparently, he was in the same grade as Barry and Iris, but Barry didn’t have many classes with him—just the ones in the afternoon—and they only had one class all together.

It was in English that the two friends met the new boy, and Iris was surprised to find that she already knew him.

She hit Barry’s arm several times in excitement. "Oh, my God, Barry," she hissed. "That’s Lisa’s big brother!"

Barry’s emerald eyes widened comically. "What?" he squeaked, his head whipping around to look at the new boy. "They don’t look alike!"

Iris giggled. "Daddy says they got different moms. But that’s Lenny Snart, yep!"

Barry could hardly look away from the new kid.   

Leonard Snart had darker skin than his sister. His hair was both dark and light—like pale sand mixed into dark clay or dirt, different from (but also not unlike) Lisa’s golden-toned brown hair.

There were similarities, too, though, like their eyes. Lisa’s eyes always struck him as the bluest things he’d ever seen, but her brother’s were…something else. Where the girl’s eyes were the color of the sky, this boy’s eyes were less flat, more three-dimensional. Not one color but two, layered over each other. Like steel covered in ice. Still bluer than anything, though.

They were built similarly, too; thin but not bony, delicate but not weak. They had the same high cheekbones, the same long, thin fingers. Leonard was taller and thicker, of course, being both a boy and nearly six years older, but he was still a kid, and he still had a ways to go before he lost that quality.

Behind Barry, he heard Cisco lean forward. "Who’s Lisa?" he asked.

Well, Barry assumed that’s what he asked; he asked in Spanish, and it sounded longer, but Iris had picked up a little bit of Spanish from Cisco—more than Barry had, at least—and she just shrugged.

"She’s this little girl my dad baby-sits sometimes," she told him. "She turned, like, four in August or something, I think."

"Five," Barry corrected. "Lisa is five now."

Cisco asked something else in Spanish, something about _years_ , and Iris laughed. "I don’t know how old Leonard is now," she said. "Barry? Do you?"

Barry frowned, thinking. "Doesn’t he turn a whole year older than me right before you turn my age? That means he’s almost twelve, I think." He could see Iris smiling out of the corner of his eye. "I _think_ , don’t take my word for it."

The teacher cleared her throat. "Cisco, did you have a question, sweetheart?"

"No, Señora," the boy said, sitting back. "I’m fine."

* * *

Things had changed at Carmichael Elementary School since Barry and Iris were in first grade.

Now, there were cliques. Actual, real-life, straight-out-of-a-teen-drama-but-in-elementary-school _cliques_.

They weren’t exactly well-defined, but there was a distinct line between Populars and Normals, with a very, _very_ small grey area.

The grey area consisted of Barry and Iris, for example. Pretty kids that didn’t do anything but go to school and go home. The only reason most kids who were in their category were in the grey area and not the Normals was because they occasionally hung out with a few Populars, especially during the summer, when everyone was always at the city pool. Some had another thing that made them Grey, like playing a sport or living in a house near a Party House (where all the birthday parties were held for Pops), but mainly kids were only Grey if they were Norms that happened to hang with Pops. It was convoluted and sometimes disturbing, and Barry hated thinking about it.

Pops were all those kids we mentioned earlier. Barry and Iris had a vague chart going on to determine all the different levels.

The biggest section was obviously Norms, but Pops had several categories within one category. You had your Regular Pops, kids like Mark Mardon, Shawna Baez, Bette Sans Souci, and Roy Bivolo from Barry’s grade and Axel Walker from the grade below. Then you had the Mean Pops, bullies like Tony Woodward, the Dillon twins, Sam Scudder, and Jake Simmons from Barry’s grade and Clyde Mardon from the grade below. Then the Brain Pops, who were all in Barry’s grade but still slightly smarter than him; Cisco Ramon, Hartley Rathaway, and Ronnie Raymond. Lastly were the Odd Pops. They didn’t fit into any of the regular groups, but they were obviously Pops. This included guys like Mick Rory. Probably Dante Ramon, too, when he still went to school there, because he was musical but also a douche-bag, so he really could have fit in with the Regs or the Meanies.

Anyway, it was a general rule of the Populars to have a ringleader or two. No one was really sure what they did, but it was apparently important. Tony was almost always one of the ringleaders, though he and Rosa had been butting heads for years and no one would have been surprised if she took his place. The other one could have been anybody, but usually it was Mark or Hartley, who just switched places all the time depending on who was where and when.

Personally, Barry liked it when Hartley was Tony’s co-leader, because he had a habit of making Tony leave everyone alone by making him feel stupid.

Once Leonard Snart was in the picture, though, tch. Every chart, every social norm, everything about the clique system—it was all blown sky high.

His first day of school, he introduced himself as _Len_ before sitting down and remaining completely silent for the rest of the class. His second day of school, he said nothing at all. On his third day, things got interesting.

The way Mark told it, it was “the coolest thing that ever happened, ever.”

Apparently, the morning teacher had left the room for ten minutes. Len had been sitting in the front of the class, minding his own business and doing his work, when Tony came over.

Mark said Tony was saying some pretty mean things, like how Len must be stupid if he couldn’t even talk to anyone and how Len’s dad was a total jerk who arrested people just cuz he didn’t like them and yada yada yada—all that stuff.

Then Len just looked up at Tony, threw a pencil at his forehead, and said, "Get lost, kid. There’s no use for moronic bullies around here."

And then he just...went back to work. Tony kept trying to taunt him after that, but he just ignored him.

At one point, he turned to the kid next to him, who happened to be Roy, and asked him for a pencil. Then he asked what he was drawing in his notepad. They talked about paint and art stuff for the rest of class. Tony was so mad he punched a Norm, and then he got sent to the office.

"It was amazing," Mark had said, still laughing.

He, Shawna, and Bette had sat with Barry and Iris at lunch that day. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, though it _was_ strange for them to talk to Barry. They usually just talked to Iris when Barry wasn’t there.

"I’ve never seen anyone get under Tony’s skin like that, just by ignoring him."

Iris had laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe. "Oh, wow," she gasped out. "That’s so great."

Barry rolled his eyes. "You guys should ask him into the Pops," he told Shawna. "I’m sure he’ll give Tony a run for his money."

"I’m sure," Bette drawled. "But I don’t think Len’s interested."

Iris huffed through her nose, eyes turning heavenward. Her hand grabbed reflexively at her neck—she still did that a lot, a holdover from the days she wore her mom’s ring around her neck. She’d lost it in November, at the zoo on a fieldtrip, but she still looked sad every time she reached up to find it gone.

"Who would be?” she told them. “The whole popular thing is stupid, anyway."

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Len was not interested at all in being a Popular.

So, naturally, he became the center of the group.

Everyone followed him around all the time, and they basically did whatever he told them to do.

It was maybe two weeks after the incident with Tony, and Barry and Iris were just about in stitches watching all these kids follow Len around. He didn’t really ever say much, but most of the kids were content to just watch him. If he told them to do something, kids would run around trying to get it done—whoever did it first got a pat on the head from Len.

Apparently it was a big thing, getting that pat on the head. Barry didn’t get it.

It was the end of the day, and Barry was headed for his last class—Math. It was one of his best subjects, really, though he was even better at science.

He barely made it through the door before he tripped over the leg of a desk. He ended up sprawled across the floor, his notebooks and pencil box flying from his arms. Barry flushed in humiliation as the sound of giggles and guffaws reached his ears. Frantically scrambling to pick up all the stray papers and pens, he startled when a stack of them appeared less than an inch from his face.

"Here," a quiet voice said. "I think this is all of them."

"Th—Thanks," Barry stuttered, taking the pile.

He followed the hand that had been holding them up to a new face—or, at least, relatively new. His face heated up further as his green eyes clashed with a set of blue ones.

"Um." He glanced back to his papers. "Uh."

He looked back up. The other boy was smirking.

"Uh," Barry said again. "I—uh—it—it’s L—Len, right?" he stammered. He held his papers close to his chest, his fingers cramping around a handful of pens.

The boy nodded slowly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. One of the first things Barry had noticed was that he never left it anywhere. He kept the thing in sight at all times.

"Yeah," he said, holding a hand out to help him up. "Yeah, it’s Len. Sister calls me Lenny, dear old Dad calls me Leo, but I like Len better.” He grinned, shaking his hand a little where it was suspended in the air over the other. “You’re Barry. Right, kid? Barry Allen?"

Barry whipped into action, stuffing papers into his binders, stacking his folders somewhat neatly, and throwing pencils into their box. He took Len’s hand, yanking himself into a standing position.

"Yeah," he affirmed, quickly letting go. "My name is Barry." He swallowed nervously and shifted his binders in his arms. "Nice to meet you." It almost sounded like a question.

Len smirked again. "Sure, kid."

Barry squeaked when a hand landed on his shoulder, almost dropping his things again. Turning, he saw the teacher behind him. "Oh, um. Hi, Ma’am."

She smiled down at him. "Hello, Barry. I see you’ve made a new friend."

He frowned. "We just met?" he murmured, looking over at the boy.

Len smiled sweetly at the teacher, patting Barry on the head. It did feel kind of nice…

"Bear knows my lil sis,” Len explained. “I thought maybe I should talk to him, cuz she seems to like him. She don’t like a lot of people."

The teacher laughed, patting Barry on the back. "That’s sweet," she said. "Now, why don’t you two go sit down. It’s almost time for class."

* * *

It really was nice out. The sun was shining, there were new green leaves on the trees, and it was the first day in six months that the temperature had gotten above fifty-five. It was perfect.

It might have been even _more_ perfect, had it not been one of _those_ days. A day of bloody noses and scraped knees, of fist-shaped bruises along his spinal column and a voice hoarse from crying.

Yeah.

You know how there are just those people out there that care too much? Like, they’ll take a bullet for a total stranger, just because they didn’t agree with the person doing the shooting.

These kinds of people are somehow both the best and worst kind of people. It’s like they never developed a sense of _fight or flight_. There is only _protect_. There is only _save_.

There aren’t any other sides to them. Like Two Face with his double-headed coin.

Barry Allen is one such person.

He has been since a very early age, and he always will be until he’s dead several times over, probably. (Definitely.) This instinct is not lessened by any event in his life. Not by his mother’s impending death, not by any other death he experiences. Not even by the friends he gains, who teach him about betrayal, love, and all sorts of other lessens he never would have learned before.

But that’s for later. For now, this day.

 _This_ day is the day that changes everything. From this point on, the timeline is going to go _completely_ off-kilter. If you thought it was messed up before, wait till you see this.

Because guess what. This particular fight that’s about to go down? It happens on Wednesday, the first day of March. It wasn’t _supposed_ to happen until over two weeks later, on Friday the seventeenth.

Things will not be the same.

Somehow, the new events make even less sense than the—not the original timeline, the one after that.

Tread carefully.

Eleven-year-old Barry made his way outside after school, preparing to walk home. Usually, Iris would walk with him, but she’d gotten picked up by her dad nearly ten minutes ago. Detective West offered to give Barry a ride home, but it was nice out and Barry reveled in being able to walk home.

This was the first year his parents let him walk home by himself. Before, he’d been too young, or so they said. It wasn’t far from the school to his house, maybe three or four blocks, and Barry was never too worried about it. But it wasn’t his choice to make, and he was probably just naïve, so he didn’t question his parents.

On this day, he got held up by a teacher for a few minutes after class. It was nearly fifteen minutes after dismissal when Barry finally started his journey. He only made it half a block before he caught sight of a fight.

There were four bullies beating up on one other kid, and the poor kid looked _wrecked_. His bag had fallen to the ground, spilling papers everywhere, and his head was bleeding.

"You’re so stupid," one of the bullies taunted. It was Tony. "Like you’d ever be cool like us."

Barry was instantly angry. "Hey!" he shouted, running over. "Leave him alone."

One of the other boys—Jake—glanced up from their victim. "Well, if it isn’t little Allen." He jumped up, shoving Barry into a nearby wall. "You lookin’ for a beating, too? Huh?"

Barry glared at him, shoving him back. "Why do you guys always pick on everyone else?" he yelled.

Suddenly, Tony was in his face. "Because we can," he said with a grin, pushing Barry again. He almost fell, but he caught himself. Tony kept coming at him, though, and the other bullies were following along, cheering at the bigger boy. "And because it’s just so _easy_."

Behind Tony, Barry could see the kid from before grab his stuff and run away. Hopefully he’d get help—but that was unlikely.

Tony laughed. "Saw you chatting up the new kid today. Snart, is it?" He sneered, an ugly look on his otherwise pretty twelve-year-old face. "The two losers hanging out together. They flock together, I guess."

Barry glared up at him. "Ooh, look at that, you learned a new phrase," he bit out. He was almost startled at the snarky response that came out, but he powered through. "Len is cooler than you ever have been or ever will be, Tony. And he put you in your place as soon as he got here, so how does that look for you?"

Tony’s eyes narrowed in a glare—he looked _livid_. His jaw locked as if he couldn’t think of anything to say, and he shoved Barry again. Barry used the momentum to dive away, rolling to his feet quickly and sprinting as fast as he could. He could hear all four kids shouting and following, and he was sure they wouldn’t take long to catch up. Barry was just hoping he made it to his front door before they did; everyone knew that a kid’s front door was essentially a base in a much more dangerous game of tag.

Unfortunately, he’d only managed one block, less than two blocks away from freedom, when he tripped.

The others were on him in a second, punching him and kicking him. He just curled up in a ball on the ground, hoping they’d go away soon.

Eventually, they did, but he waited until he was sure they were gone and not coming back before pushing off of the ground.

Barry managed to stand without too much difficulty. He stretched, moving his arms and legs experimentally and wincing as he felt all the new bruises tugging at his muscles. His elbows and knees were scraped up, and there was a sharp pain on his face. He reached up, his hand coming away bloody. His eye twitched—it would definitely be black by the end of the week, and he was pretty sure his nose was bloody, if not broken. He had a cut on his lip and one on his forehead, probably from when he fell. Although the black eye was probably from someone kicking him—he hadn’t even noticed.

He couldn’t help but come to the realization that this beat-down was much, much worse than the others he had gotten. Usually he could play these things off as some kind of accident of his own fault, but there would be no denying the real reason this time. His mom would notice the second he walked through the door.

His eyes watered as the pain settled in, and he sat back down on the curb, setting his bag in front of him so he could reach inside for a tissue. He always made sure he had tissues and Band-Aids with him, ever since the first time he got the snot beat out of him by Tony and his goons.

Barry dabbed carefully at his elbows, wiping away some of the blood. He had to bite into his sleeve when the thin paper kept catching on the scrapes, and the tears just rushed out of him faster. By the time he moved onto his knees, pulling the hem of his pants up so he could clean the scrapes, he was almost sobbing, and he had to pause every few second to blink away the tears so he could see what he was doing.

When one of his pants legs slipped and dragged across his wound, he howled into his sleeve, his bloody nose pressed painfully into the inside of his elbow.

"—id." A voice reached his ears. "Kid. Allen!"

He glanced up, his watery green eyes taking a second to focus enough to register blue ones. They weren’t the ones that belonged to the voice, though. Looking up further, he saw another pair.

He skittered back on his hands, his newly-bandaged palms protesting against the roughness of the concrete.

Barry barely noticed, squeaking out, "Len! Lisa!" He sniffed. "W—What are y—you two do—doing here?" he stuttered weakly, giving up on his retreat in favor of checking his hands over again. Blood was slowly seeping through the thin gauze, and he whimpered a little.

A golden head popped up in front of his face. "What happened to Bawry?" Lisa asked. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked like she was going to cry. "He got hurt? Who done’t?"

Len put a hand on her shoulder, nudging her out of the way so he could kneel in front of Barry himself. He took a tissue from the box Barry had discarded, holding it out to Barry. He watched calmly as Barry wiped his nose and eyes with it.

Then he asked, "It was Tony, right? And his gang of idiots?"

Barry just nodded, his throat tight.

Len sighed before moving away. He grabbed the box of tissues, putting it into Barry’s bag and ushering Lisa to stand. He’d been carrying both his and Lisa’s bags across his back, and now Barry’s joined them, hanging limply over his shoulder as he looked down at Barry. The smaller boy hadn’t moved.

Len offered a hand. "Need help?"

Barry glanced up, shook his head. He tried to roll to his feet, but one of his knees gave way before he was even steady, and he fell back down again with a shout, landing on his hip.

Len watched, coughed pointedly, offered his hand again.

Barry glared resolutely at the ground for forty-nine seconds (Len counted), his hands digging into the cement and his knees attempting to gain traction, before sighing and rolling back into his sitting position from before, his knees pulled up in front of him. He held his hand up.

"Please," he croaked.

Avoiding his injured hand, Len instead grasped the boy’s right forearm with his own right hand, gently tugging him into a standing position. The boy stumbled again, so much so that Len was now certain he had twisted something in his right leg, his knee probably. In response, the blue-eyed boy yanked Barry’s arm over his own shoulders, his other hand going around his waist to support most of his weight. Which wasn’t all that much—no way could Barry tip the scale at sixty-five pounds soaking wet—but the weight was dead enough that Len paused for a second to make sure Barry wouldn’t pass out or throw up from the sudden move.

When he was sure Barry was awake and secure, he gave Lisa a pointed look. She’d been standing patiently in the middle of the sidewalk, watching the other two. She seemed so sad when her eyes landed on Barry. Not surprising, considering all the times she’d already seen Len in the same condition.

"Walk in front of me, Lise. We’re dropping Barry off first, and then we’ll go to the West house."

Lisa nodded rapidly, bouncing to the front of the line and skipping down the walk. "Yay!" she cheered. She had a doll with blond hair clutched in one hand, and she talked to it happily. "Miss Goldilocks, you hear dis? We get to see the doctor! And Bawry’s mama! I bet she look like Bawry!"

"No, sis," Len called. "We’re just dropping Barry off."

The girl spun around, a pout on her lips. "But, Lenny," she whined. "Doc is soooo _nice_!"

"I said no."

She huffed, turning back around.

"Barry?" Len asked calmly, looking at the boy from the corner of his eye. Green eyes gazed up at him blearily. "Which house is yours?"

Instantly, Barry looked away, sniffling a little and dropping his gaze to the ground. He looked like he was thinking hard. "Um..." He trailed off, his voice thick. "It’s on the same street as the Wests. First one on the block, coming from this direction."

Len nodded. "It’s not too far."

Barry tripped a little, and suddenly Len was almost dragging the boy.

"You gotta _walk_ , kid."

The boy sniffed, and Len winced at the noise—it was obvious just by the sound of it that his nose was bleeding heavier, and that it was starting to congeal in his airway.

"I’m trying," he said weakly. His voice was nasally and almost silent. "My knee isn’t working right. I’m sorry," he whispered.

Len sighed as his fear was confirmed. "It isn’t _your_ fault," he growled. "Those morons are the ones with anger issues."

Barry heaved a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, and Len stopped in his tracks.

Apparently, Lisa had heard it, too, because she whipped around, her eyes wide and glassy. "Bawry!" she cried. "You gonna need hospi’al!"

Green eyes widened, and Barry sucked in a breath too fast. He choked, coughing violently and letting go of Len in the process. Len watched as he slipped to the ground, hunched over and hacking. It didn’t take long for blood to start pooling out of the kid’s mouth, and Len panicked.

"Lisa, watch him!" he ordered. The second she nodded, he took off down the street. In seconds, he was in front of the house Barry said was his. He sprinted up the steps, almost tripping on the top one, and skidded across the porch. Banging on the door as loud as he could, he started yelling.

"Help! Help! Please!"

The door was opened seconds later, and a woman with red hair and startled green eyes looked down at him. She couldn’t have been home for more than ten minutes—she still had her shoes and coat on, and she was holding a half-eaten granola bar. "Hello?"

Len pulled air into his lungs as fast as possible. "You’re Mrs. Allen, right? Barry’s mom?" She nodded, about to ask, but he shook his head. "You have to come now! Barry got in a fight and he’s really, really hurt! I think they might have broken his ribs!"

Her eyes widened, and the energy bar fell from her hand. "Where?" she asked, panicked. "Show me."

Together, they ran back down the street. As soon as she saw Barry kneeling on the ground, staring at his shaking hands, she picked up her pace, falling to the ground next to him.

"Barry!" she cried. "Barry, honey—baby, look at me."

He looked up, and even Len gagged a little bit. The swelling in his nose and eyes had gone down a little bit, but blood was rushing down his face, across his jaw and down his neck. It seemed like it was coming from everywhere—somewhere in his hair, a long cut on his forehead, the corner of his eye, his nose, cuts on his lip, his mouth. The color of the blood was a little less red than pink, which was probably from the tears mixing in with it. Barry was shaking too hard, his eyes too glassy for him to not be crying.

"Mom?" he gurgled out. He sniffed, and then he gagged. "I think I need some medicine," he said slowly. "Do you think we have any Benadryl?"

His mom laughed wetly, scooping him up. "Oh, no, mister," she said sternly. "I’m putting you in the car and we’re driving to see Miss Andrea." She stood carefully, not letting him go for a second. “I don’t have the stuff at the house, so you’re going to have to go to the doctor’s office.”

Barry whimpered just slightly when his feet left the ground, his right knee protesting sharply at the sharp elbow beneath it. "Mom, I’m fine," he wheezed.

Lisa tugged on the adult’s coat, frowning. "Gonna take Bawry to doctor?"

"Yes," she replied calmly. She looked at Len. "Thank you...young man."

Len smiled politely, shifting the bags on his shoulders. "It’s Len, Ma’am. And it wasn’t really a problem."

* * *

Len walked with Mrs. Allen and Barry until they got to their car, and then he and Lisa just kept walking.

"Told you Bawry’s mama would look like him!" Lisa crowed as soon as they were alone.

Len rolled his eyes, patting her on the head. His bag almost fell off his shoulder with the movement, but he caught it. They’d put Barry’s bag in the backseat with him, so he just had his own bag and Lisa’s to worry about.

"You sure did, Lise," he drawled as they climbed the stairs to the West’s door.

For the rest of the night, after he dropped Lisa off and returned to help his father with...business, Len couldn’t stop worrying about Barry. It wasn’t even because he particularly _liked_ him, though he couldn’t help but think he was just about as adorable as a puppy or a newborn penguin. It was just...It was pretty obvious, if not by the fact that he didn’t want help then definitely by the boxes of tissues, Band-Aids, and gauze Len had seen in his book bag, that Barry was used to abuse. He knew that most of the kids at school teased him and made fun of him and whatever else, but he didn’t think anyone got violent. Wasn’t that only supposed to happen in high school? Sure, fights and bullying ran rampant at his old school, but he thought Carmichael was different.

Honestly, Len wasn’t even sure why Barry got teased and bullied so much. It wasn’t like he was ugly or stupid, and he definitely wasn’t some kind of creepy loner. He’d seen the kid talking to several of the popular kids, so he had friends other than Iris, obviously.

Maybe it was because he was clumsy, or because he was dorky and had a weird tendency to babble. Maybe it was because he wouldn’t stand aside while other kids were getting bullied. But those weren’t necessarily bad attributes, were they?

Len didn’t know.

So it wasn’t that he had any particular feelings toward Barry—they’d known each other for barely a day, despite the fact that Lisa had been telling him all about Barry and Iris for the last three years, and Len didn’t often make decisions about people based purely on a first meeting. If he did, he’d probably get himself even deeper into his father’s business just by being too naive in trusting. Most people were either normal or overly polite and/or adorable in first meetings, depending on age, gender, sexual orientation, race, and religion.

It was funny—Len didn’t fit into any categories. He was kind of one on his own, he guessed. Kids thought he was too much of a smart-ass, too much like an adult, while adults were unnerved by his maturity yet still saw him as a little kid. He wasn’t afraid to fight, and he could take care of himself just fine, but he was better with more delicate work, and he had a strange affection for Disney movies because of Lisa. Despite not even being twelve, he was already prone to flirting (probably a habit picked up out of necessity before anything else), and it seriously _did not_ matter who it was, but he could pass for straight as long as no one saw him talking to other boys like he talked to girls. He was too white to be black, too black to be white, and he couldn’t ever decide if he was celebrating Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Christmas, because it was always different ever since he found out about his mother’s side of the family and became a bit more conscientious about religion and its patterns.

If anyone else had had that combination, they’d probably be bullied or disowned or otherwise completely lost to society, but Len wasn’t just anyone. He fought back against any oppression he was on the receiving end of, and had a terrible habit of helping other kids he thought were being bullied for no reason. It didn’t happen all the time—he wasn’t the nicest kid as it was, and some kids were just so weird and awkward they seemed to be asking for someone to pick on them—and he was just lucky that people thought it was cool rather than as something that ruined his "street cred".

As it was, he was holding out on judgment on Barry for the time being. Obviously, he’d greatly underestimated the kid, because the shy, clumsy, babbling kid he’d met this morning definitely didn’t seem to be the abused type.

On second thought—he could see it. But he was still holding out on judging him a whole lot.

(Which was good, because things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Like, the only thing that would have made it cooler would have been, like, a thunderstorm.”  
> “But you think thunderstorms are the best thing ever.”  
> “I know!”  
> -  
> “Do you have names?”  
> “Heck yeah, we got names! It’s awesome! I came up with them myself!”  
> “Cisco. Be fair—you got the good-guy name from Barry.”  
>  “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I guess you could say we’re, like, co-founders. But, like, not leaders.”  
> -  
> “We want you two to join us in the Pops. Obviously.”  
> -  
> “Come on, Bear, be a Rogue with us!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets better, the Popular are divided, and Mark is a cheery little bastard.
> 
> Also, Barry gets a new nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

Barry got the crack on his forehead wrapped up nice and tight at the hospital, barely even noticing the pain at that point. The doctor said he was lucky; his ribs weren’t broken, only heavily bruised and slightly cracked, and after an hour of pressing an ice pack to the bridge of his nose, the swelling had gone down—it was almost normal now—though the meaty part of it was splotchy and bloodstained. No doubt about it: a few more hours, and his face would be purple and green and red all over.

By the time midnight rolled around, he was home, in bed. The hospital had wanted to keep him overnight, to make sure he didn’t have any lasting damage, but…considering his parents were doctors, they let him go home to sleep. If he had any more trouble with his injuries, though, he’d have to come back.

Barry was really hoping he wouldn’t have to go back.

He didn’t really want to be a doctor anymore. He didn’t like seeing people hurt and in pain, and he knew sometimes even doctors couldn’t help. Being a doctor or a surgeon or a nurse was an exact science without being an exact science. You could do everything right and still not save people. It wasn’t right.

He still liked science, though, so maybe he could work in a lab or something. Detective West was always saying that the science guy at the police station was a big help on cases, at least when the guy was working instead of cowering from Detective Snart.

Barry _really_ didn’t like that guy. He was mean to him and meaner to Iris, he was always abandoning Lisa or yelling at her, and if Lisa was to be believed—and he totally believed her, absolutely and completely—he was beating up her brother Lenny all the time. That was _not_ okay.

Anyway.

For the rest of the week, Barry stayed home from school. His mom stayed home, too, to watch over him and make him soup.

Barry mostly slept.

He barely managed some crackers and a tiny bowl of chicken soup for dinner, his stomach gurgling and his chest burning. He stayed quiet, though, insisting he just wasn’t hungry. Iris brought his homework home for him in the evenings, so he used it as another excuse. By the time he was finished with that, it was time for him to go to bed.

He fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Monday was a “Teacher Work Day” at school, but on Tuesday, it back to normal. Back to school.

His mom gave him a little bit of medicine for the pain, but it wasn’t that bad anymore. He just felt really sore, especially when his arm brushed against his sides. He’d have to get an ice pack or something from the nurse.

Iris walked with him to school. He blushed a little—even more when she wouldn’t let him carry his book bag, instead draping it over her own back. She insisted it was fine, since she didn’t have a book bag anyway, preferring to just carry whatever textbook and binder she needed.

And then he blushed a lot when they got inside, because everyone was staring. At him.

By the time they got five steps down the hall, headed for the cafeteria, he and Iris had been joined by five other kids.

Bette linked arms with Iris, giggling happily but still snarling at anyone who came too close. Mark threw an arm across Barry’s shoulders, careful of his injuries, and started shoving their way through the hall with his other hand. Hartley and Cisco walked in front of them, bickering loudly in Spanish and basically striking fear into everyone listening. Behind them, when Barry looked over his shoulder, was Len.

“Dude,” Mark said, his voice loud. “You missed so much last week. You should have seen it.” He paused for a second to elbow a third-grader who got a little too close before continuing cheerily. “It was so cool. Like, the only thing that would have made it cooler would have been, like, a thunderstorm.”

“But you think thunderstorms are the best thing ever,” Barry said quietly.

Mark grinned. “I know! But, anyway, you missed a ton. Didn’t Iris tell you? I mean, she brought your homework to you every day, right? Did she tell you?”

Barry blushed, his eyes flickering to his best friend. “Uh, yeah, she got my homework for me. But she didn’t say anything in particular about what happened while I was gone, just that Tony and Jake were being real jerks like usual.”

In front of them, Cisco paused in his Spanish rant. “Iris,” he whined, drawing her name out for a good five seconds. Spinning, he started walking backwards while he talked. Hartley rolled his eyes at this. “You left out all the good stuff.”

Iris sniffed. “None of what happened affected Barry, Cisco. He wasn’t in the crew, he didn’t need to know. Besides, he needed to rest, and I thought he should probably see for himself, anyway. No way would he believe me without seeing it.”

“Sure I would,” Barry protested. “You’re not a liar, Iris!”

Iris beamed over at him. “Yeah, but this is a little too weird.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist softly. “Ooh, Barry! We’ve gotta re-do the chart now! _Finally_! That thing is _so_ boring.”

Mark laughed. “What chart?”

“Me and Barry—”

“Barry and I.”

 _"Barry and I_ ,” she continued, exaggerating as she scrunched her nose at Hartley. He stuck his tongue out at her. “We made this chart last summer—well, right when school started—and it basically labels everyone in the school. At least, everyone important. Like, we have this one big part labeled as _Norms_ and all it says is _Everyone Else_. But, like, all the Greys are in the Grey part, and we wrote out all the subparts for the Populars.”

Mark snorted. “You made a chart for that? Seriously?”

“I think it’s cute,” Shawna chirped, suddenly clinging to his back. “Besides, that old system was so confusing we totally could have used a chart to keep it straight.”

Mark grunted at the weight. He shifted and found himself carrying Shawna while also attempting to keep Barry protected. Not the hardest thing—Shawna wasn’t that heavy and Barry was so short and skinny Mark could probably hide him in his jacket and no one would notice. Besides the fact that he would suddenly have four legs instead of two.

(Which was good, because Barry was already essentially cowering behind the fabric. The two boys weren’t that close, but Barry feels close to anyone who’s not mean to him and he also doesn’t really have boundaries when it comes to hugs, so this wasn’t really anything new.)

“Anyway, B, you missed a lot last week.”

“What happened?”

“Well, for starters, you’re gonna have to get rid of those ‘subparts’, because the Pops have been totally regrouped.” Mark grinned down at Barry’s wide eyes. “Yeah. Like, there’s only two groups now. Two and a half, maybe. I guess.”

“Do you have names?”

“Heck yeah, we got names,” Cisco crowed. “It’s awesome! I came up with them myself!”

“Cisco,” Bette scolded. “Be fair—you got the good-guy name from Barry.”

Cisco seemed to ponder this. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.” He gave Barry a bright smile, and then turned to hold open the doors of the cafeteria with Hartley. “I guess you could say we’re, like, co-founders. But, like, not leaders.”

Barry giggled. “What’s the name?”

“The Rogues.”

Barry jumped at the sound of Len’s drawl, turning to peek over Mark’s shoulder at him. “Are—Are you in it, Len?”

“In it?” Hartley scoffed. “He’s the leader, Allen.”

“Totally!” Cisco cheered. “Like, I wanted to come up with code-names for everyone, but we just decided to wait on that one.”

“Wait until what?” Barry asked.

“Middle School, probably,” Shawna told him. “Maybe High School, who knows.”

“We’re too little for codenames right now,” Bette continued. “There’d be a ton of paperwork if we got codenames now and then had to change them to fit us when we’re older.”

“Paperwork,” Barry said slowly.

“Duh,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “Like, voting and approval and stuff. Not to mention contracts.”

“Right…” He shook his head as Mark dragged him over to a table. There were a few Populars there. “Um, are you really sure…”

“What?” Cisco asked, looking confused. Then he looked at the table. “Oh, right. Yeah. Barry! Iris kinda…lied a little bit earlier.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did.”

It came from six voices. Barry raised a brow.

“Anyway, she lied. Just a little, though, dude. She said you weren’t in our crew, which is true, but also not.”

His brow scrunched. “Uh, but that is true. Like… _totally_ true. I’m a Grey. Iris is a Grey. We know this.”

Mark pushed him into the seat by Iris’, plopped Shawna into another one, and sat in the one between them with a cheer. “We’re ditchin’ Greys, man. No more Greys. It’s too confusing.”

“So then we’re Norms,” Barry said, shrugging. “Still doesn’t make her a liar.”

“It does if we want you two to join us in the Pops,” Hartley replied. He rolled his eyes. “Obviously,” he scoffed. “Iris already agreed yesterday.”

“What.”

“Maybe we should start from the beginning, guys,” Ronnie said from the other side of the table. “Barry looks confused.”

“Right,” Len said from beside him. He looked closely at Barry. Then his eyes flickered over. “Iris? Thoughts on who can tell this story? You know Barry best.”

The girl squinted a little in thought, passing Barry a granola bar and a juice box from his bag. She hummed. “Either Shawna or Ronnie. They were both there the whole time but not in it as much as some of us, so they’ve got all the facts. Plus they won’t exaggerate.” She tossed a smirk at Cisco, Mark, and Axel.

Len nodded. “Ronnie.”

The other boy looked surprised, but launched into the story anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, about three minutes before the bell for class rang, Barry had pretty much the whole story.

Apparently, things went crazy before school even started on Thursday. The action was cut by classes, mainly taking place before school, during lunch and recess, and after school. It went something like this.

In the morning, Len walked right up to Tony and punched him in the face. He’d timed it perfectly so there were only ten other kids and zero teachers in the hall, and there weren’t any cameras showing that particular spot, either. So Tony slammed into a locker and screamed, and when a teacher came rushing from the other hall, Len was already gone and the other kids in the hall said they didn’t see anything. Tony told the teacher that Len punched him and ran away, but the teacher found him in the cafeteria, and Mark, Shawna, Cisco, and Mick all said he’d been there for almost half an hour.

Tony got sent home with an ice pack.

That was just the beginning.

Nobody except Len was really sure who else was involved in Barry’s beat-down, so all they could say was that two more kids were sent home, one before class and the other during recess. Then they got to Jake.

Jake was the only one who fought back, though not very well. He missed every time he tried to stab Len. He ended up trapped under the jungle gym and his mom had to come get him.

The rest of the Pops had kind of been both terrified of Len and strangely star-struck by him, so the next morning when he announced that all the Pops and Greys would be meeting during recess on Friday, everybody managed to gather on the playground.

It must have been quite a strange sight, as fifteen Pops and thirty Greys gathered in this tiny park, shoving each other off benches and crowding around picnic tables or hanging upside down on the monkey-bars.

Len was the one who’d called the meeting, but he’d apparently asked Mark, Shawna, Cisco, Ronnie, and Hartley to join him in explaining what was going on. Iris stood with them, too, as a kind of ambassador for the Greys.

Basically, Len issued an ultimatum that said if you were a Pop and you weren’t with him, you were against him. Being against him meant one of two things: being a Norm or joining Tony. He also said he thought the idea of Greys was ridiculous and went through that group and talked to everyone. Some of them were offered Popular status, others weren’t.

By the end of the meeting, Len had given control of the former-Greys-new-Pops over to a girl named Lily. She was really smart, and Len had offered her a place on his crew, but she said no, so he insisted she at least be a leader of the lesser group, which she accepted.

At this point, Shawna passed a spiral notebook down to Barry. “The lists,” she said. “You can reorganize it, if you want. Make it neater and clearer. I just scribbled down what I could get—couldn’t remember all the names of the Committee kids, though.”

Len’s crew—which they all agreed to name The Rogues, or just Rogues, after Cisco brought up the time Barry said anyone who was Popular and didn’t in some way bully others was like a rogue agent in a spy movie, because they were always the coolest and everyone knew it—was way bigger than Tony’s. It was Len (of course) and Mark, Shawna, Roy, Mick (he and Len were pretty good friends already, apparently, because he’d just kind of shrugged and gone over to Len’s side without even thinking about it), Bette, Sam, Rosa (apparently she was more loyal to Sam and Len than to being a jerk), Axel, Hartley, Ronnie and Cisco. Roy was the last to join, but then Len offered Barry and Iris a place in it. Iris agreed readily, because she knew they were already honorary members anyway.

Tony’s crew was way smaller. After all was said and done, he only had himself, Jake, Roscoe, Clyde (Mark was upset that his brother betrayed him like this, but was determined to stick it out), a couple of former Greys named Digger and Frankie, and a random kid named Jeremy.

Basically, if Barry joined, the Rogues would outnumber Tony’s crew, named the Evil Horde, two to one. The new group of Greys-turned-Pops, The Committee, was almost the same size as The Rogues, just minus one.

“Tony showed up right before everyone left to go back inside,” Ronnie said. “That’s probably the only reason he has more than just him and Jake. He tried to fight everyone, too, but Len said if he tried anything there, he’d make sure Tony didn’t have _anybody_. He backed off a little after that.”

Hartley sighed. “He didn’t come to school on Friday, either. We think it’s because he’s sulking.”

“He probably won’t push it too far today,” Mick grunted from the end of the table, nodding toward the table where the Horde was gathered. “He doesn’t like it when people show him up.” He grinned at Len, and then gave Barry a squinty look. “Might try somethin’ anyway just to prove he’s tough ‘r whatever.”

Barry shuddered, and Iris leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bear,” she told him gently. “Lenny said we can join the Rogues.”

Len grimaced. “You hang out with Lisa too much.”

Iris stuck her tongue out at him. “Me and Barry—sorry, Hart, _Barry and I_ —should totally get away with calling you Lenny. Cuz Lisa.”

“Your logic is flawed.”

“Don’t care.”

Len sighed. “Whatever. I guess you two are safe.” He glared at everyone else. “No one else,” he growled. Everyone nodded quickly—except for Mick, who grunted and mumbled something that made Len roll his eyes

Cisco poked Barry’s arm. “Dude, what do you think? Wanna be a Rogue? Your codename—unofficially—could be, like—the Crimson Comet. Cuz you’re always running around and you’re kinda shiny-happy and you’re always wearing red.”

Barry’s face began imitating a tomato once again, and he looked down at the table. _Running_ away _is more like it…_

“I dunno, Cisco,” he said, looking down. “I’m not exactly…”

He trailed off, then squeaked when Mark pinched his cheek.

“Come on, Bear, be a Rogue with us!”

Barry slapped the hand away and rubbed at his jaw for a minute. “Ow, that hurt, Mardon.” He sighed, shrugging. “But yeah, sure. I’ll join the Rogues.”

He dropped his hand back to the table, scribbling his name at the bottom of the organized list before sliding it back across to Shawna with a grin.

And then the first bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He doesn’t care about him at all except for when he gets in trouble. I don’t like him.”  
> “Nobody does. What even happened yesterday?”  
> -  
> “It’s not that long of a walk. And half the Horde is stuck at home. I’ll be fine.”  
> “Tony’s still here.”  
> “I think I can outrun an idiot.”  
> -  
> “You think you can survive without us, kid—be my guest. But your wife and boyfriend and ain’t gonna beat me up for it, got it?”  
> “He’s not my boyfriend.”  
> “Can’t help but notice you didn’t deny that you and Iris are married.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues protect their own. Barry gets irritated...and actually wins a fight.
> 
> "Good heart" speech intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

The rest of the week was pretty boring.

Nothing was _happening_. Tony and his crew didn’t start any fights, the Rogues were all more or less happy, Barry and Iris mainly stuck to their old patterns.

Barry’s ribs still hurt, but that was going away quickly—a week after the fight, the doctor told him he’d healed well and very fast…almost too fast, really…The bruises on his arms and legs hadn’t taken nearly as long to heal as his ribs had, and by Friday he was given a clean bill of health.

Other than that, though, things were good. Barry spent more time with his school friends than ever. He was best friends with Len by Thursday, had convinced Cisco to drill him on Spanish phrases with Hartley, and convinced Rosa and Sam to try his favorite candy bar (they were now hooked).

Things were good, and Barry should have _known_ it wouldn’t last. Dang it.

* * *

Technically speaking, most of the next week was calm.

At least, for Barry. For Len and the rest of the Rogues? Eh, it varied.

Ronnie, Sam, Roy, Bette, and Axel were pretty much left alone. It was almost an unspoken thing that the five of them, along with Rosa and Cisco, were lower-tier Rogues. The Rogues didn’t consider it that way, but the rest of the school definitely did.

(It made Barry, Iris, Len, and Shawna mad a lot, so people stopped mentioning it to them.)

Regardless, the rest of them were dealing with tension all week—though it really all came to a head on Thursday, the sixteenth.

Cisco and Iris were busy distracting Barry, for the most part. It wasn’t hard. He was already excited for the weekend, because his birthday party was on Saturday. His actual birthday had been on Tuesday the fourteenth, but Barry wanted to have a sleepover with his friends after the party, so he asked his mom to make it a weekend day. So he just jabbered away on every topic pertaining to the party. It was adorable.

In the meantime, Len, Shawna, Mark, and Hartley were fighting with Tony, Jake, Roscoe, and Clyde all day, with Mick and Rosa acting as backup.

The fact that Barry didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary was amazing, though not unwanted. Considering he was the reason for the fighting, it was a probably good thing he didn’t know what was happening—they couldn’t be sure of what would happen if he threw himself into the mix.

The fighting on Thursday led to Jake, Roscoe, Rosa, Len, Shawna, and Mick being kept home on Friday. Mark, Roy, and Bette were _not_ happy.

“Tony didn’t get in a lick of trouble,” Mark muttered at breakfast. “Not even a pink-slip. And Rosa and Mick didn’t even _do_ anything all day!”

“I can’t believe Len’s dad kept him home,” Bette sniffed. “He doesn’t care about him at all except for when he gets in trouble. I don’t like him.”

“Nobody does,” Barry answered calmly. “What even happened yesterday?”

He knew they didn’t want to tell them, but their silence told him enough. So when Iris got picked up by her dad after school, and Mark and Sam offered to walk with him to his house, and he saw Tony eyeing him from the other end of the sidewalk, he told them he was fine.

“It’s not that long of a walk,” he muttered. “And half the Horde is stuck at home. I’ll be fine.”

Sam shrugged. “Tony’s still here,” he pointed out.

“I think I can outrun an idiot,” Barry said sharply. He tugged his bag up on his shoulder with a sigh. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? You’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah,” they both said.

“Pretty sure Iris and Len would just come drag us out, anyway,” Mark said with a snort.

“Got that right.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You think you can survive without us, kid—be my guest. But your wife and boyfriend and ain’t gonna beat me up for it, got it?”

Barry flushed a little, kicking at a crack in the sidewalk. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Mark laughed loudly. “Can’t help but notice you didn’t deny that you and Iris are married,” he said thoughtfully.

“Well, we’re not. I just meant—”

“ _Got it_?” Sam repeated impatiently, interrupting.

“Got it, jeez. Get outta here, Scudder.”

Sam took his word for it and left a minute later, disappearing in the opposite direction.

Mark frowned down at Barry. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you at the party.”

He hesitated, but finally backed up, tightening his grip on his bag. “Yeah, kid. See ya then. I know you can’t tell time, but don’t be too late to your own party, huh? I bet ya Lenny and Shawna bring in some stolen donuts, and you’re gonna want to get one before Axel and Cisco get to ‘em.”

With a pat to the shoulder, Mark was gone. A second later, Barry started off toward his house.

Of course, two blocks into the journey, Tony popped up beside him, pushing him to the ground.

“Hey, Allen,” he jeered. “Guess you shouldn’t’a ditched your bodyguards, huh?”

Barry sneered, jumping to his feet. “I don’t need bodyguards, Tony.”

 _Crack_.

His head whipped around with the force of Tony’s blow. His head throbbed, his eye already pulsing with blood.

“Looks like you do, Allen,” Tony snapped, grabbing his collar and hauling him against a wall.

Barry winced as his back connected with hard brick. Instinctively, he pushed on Tony’s arms, trying to get him to let go. When that didn’t work, he kicked at his shins. Hard.

It worked like a charm—Tony released him with a yelp and backed away, rubbing at his leg. Barry went to kick him again, but he grabbed his leg and held on, so he elbowed his face instead, sending him sprawling.

“Stay away from me!” he shouted; then he started running.

His mom was already home when he got there, and he winced when he almost ran into her. Not because it would have hurt or anything, but because she immediately honed in on his bleeding brow and brand-new shiner.

She grasped him chin in her hand. “Barry,” she tutted. “What happened to you, baby?”

“Tony was mad today,” he muttered.

Nora sighed. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can tell me about it.”

It didn’t take long—by the time Nora was wiping up the last of the blood, Barry was already finishing up with, “They’re just so mean all the time. They beat kids up, just because they think they aren’t cool. It’s not right.”

Nora sighed, removing the rag from his brow. “I know, honey. It’s not.”

“That’s what happened last time. I made them stop hurting that kid, but I just wasn’t fast enough.”

“I know,” she repeated. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Remember what I told you. You have a good heart. You have _such_ a good heart, Barry. And it’s better to have a good heart than fast legs.”

Barry smiled softly.

The door to the house opened. “Hello! I’m home!” his dad called. He caught sight of the two of them and paused in the entryway.

“Barry got into a fight today.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She gave the boy a little smile. “And he won.”

“Way to go, Slugger,” Henry cheered. Nora gave him a look. “Oh, and uh, no more fighting.”

He kissed his wife cheekily, and Barry laughed. His parents were great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No, Barry! Don’t let him touch you!”  
> “Run, Barry. Run!”  
> -  
> “Barry! Don’t go in the house! Stay out and wait for Joe!”  
> -  
> “Barry. Hey. I want to ask you a few questions, okay?”  
> -  
> “Lenny. He didn’t do it. He didn’t, okay? He didn’t do it!”  
> “Who? Barry, what? Who didn’t do what?”  
> “Len! Len! He didn’t do it! You have to believe me! It was the lightning man! Please! Please! He didn’t do it! You have to find the man in yellow. The man in the yellow suit, Lenny, please! It was him!”  
> “Okay, Barry, I believe you! I’ll—I’ll find him!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 March 2000.
> 
> History is already written, but not everything is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

Barry sat up in his bed, wincing as the skin around his eye stretched painfully. He groaned, looking around his room.

The tiny alarm clock by his bed read two o’clock.

The ground shook gently, and he jumped a bit, quickly climbing from under the covers. Across from him, his fish tank sloshed violently. Some of the water seemed to freeze in the air, floating above the tank. Barry squinted at it, but was distracted in the next second as bright yellow lights flashed outside his room.

“Mom? Dad?” he yelled, running out. He stumbled to the stairs, almost falling as he ran down them. Halfway to the living room, he froze.

In the center of the room was his mother, on her knees on the carpet. Around her was…a storm. Not a regular thunderstorm, or a tornado, but a—a whirling, swirling circle of lightning and powerful wind. A blur near the edge took the shape of a man for a split second before blending in again as Nora reached out for Barry.

“No, Barry! Don’t let him touch you!” Her voice was high with fear as he automatically descended the rest of the stairs. There were tears in her eyes. “Don’t! Get out!”

Suddenly his dad was next to him, grabbing his shoulders roughly. “Barry!” he shouted. “You need to get out of here! Run, Barry. Run!”

In less than a blink, everything around him disappeared, replaced by darkness. Before he could think about it, though, there was light—a streetlight, specifically, lighting up the sidewalk and the surrounding crossroad.

Barry spun in a circle. “Mom! Dad!” he screamed.

His eyes caught on the sign under the glow of the lamp. The intersection looked familiar, but he didn’t think he’d ever been here before. He thought about it, trying to remember the last map he’d seen—but, no, he didn’t see it on a map, he saw it in a _picture_. An old picture of Iris and her mom. If he was remembering right, the hospital was to his left. It was. And he could see the sign from here, which meant his house was in the opposite direction.

He started running.

* * *

 

Barry wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so far away from home so quickly, but by the time he got home there were five police cars and an ambulance outside his house. One of the officers was shoving his dad out of the house and down the steps toward a car.

“I didn’t do it—I swear to _God_ I didn’t do this,” Dad was saying.

“Dad!” Barry yelled as he ran up to them. “Why are they taking you?”

“Barry! Don’t go in the house! Stay out and wait for Joe!”

“Dad, where’s Mom?”

“My son! What’s gonna happen to my son?!”

“Dad!”

“Get in the car,” the officer pushing his dad said harshly.

“Barry!” It was a warning. “Wait out here for Joe! Stay outta the house!”

That was the last thing Barry heard him say before the man was forced into the back of a police car, disappearing down the road.

Barry yelled after him. “No! Dad!”

Spinning around, he ran up the stairs and into the house, dodging three officers and an EMT. He walked inside in a daze, not really taking anything in. He saw it all, felt it all, but couldn’t react.

Vaguely, he recognized the scent of burnt rubber and an odd metallic smell. He saw shattered glass littering the carpet of the entryway leading to the stairs and then to the living room. The carpet seemed wet, too, and sticky. In the middle of the room was an odd sort of tarp, but his gaze skipped right over that and to the broken windows.

Suddenly, he realized he was crying.

“Mom,” he whimpered. “Mom.”

His cry caught the attention of two officers in the room.

“Barry,” Detective West warned. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Barry saw a hand beneath the tarp and dropped to his knees beside it.

“Joe, you know these people?”

“My daughter’s best friends with their kid,” he said quietly. “Henry was my friend.” His voice was tight. “Kid’s already got so many problems, now this…”

“I’m sorry.”

Barry couldn’t even acknowledge the conversation. He barely heard it as he grasped the coarse fabric, tugging it away. His sobs only increased as his eyes connected with identical, sightless ones.

“Mom.”

Joe knelt beside him. “Barry.”

“Mom!”

The man pulled the tarp from his grasp and covered the body again.

“Bear,” he said softly.

Barry stayed silent.

“Barry,” Joe said louder. He looked up at him. “Hey. I want to ask you a few questions, okay?” He nodded mutely. “Okay. Let’s get you a bag, okay? You get dressed and grab you book bag and a…some clothes. You’re gonna stay with me and Iris, okay?”

Again, Barry nodded, standing. “Can I see my dad?”

Joe frowned. “Maybe. Go get dressed, get your stuff. We’ll go get questions answered and talk about maybe seeing your dad.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, with a blank stare and heavy steps, he made his way up the stairs and into his room.

* * *

 

The precinct was crowded and hectic. Barry stayed close to Joe on the way in, keeping his eyes down and making sure to keep the strap of his bag clutched tightly between his fingers.

He could feel people watching him, but he refused to look up. That’s probably why he didn’t realize someone was calling him until they were practically yelling in his ear.

“—ry. _Barry_!”

He flinched, stumbling a step.

“Hey, now,” Joe said from behind him. “No need to yell, Len.”

A huff. “Didn’t seem like he was hearing me, Detective West. Sorry.” Someone tugged on his arm. “Barry, what are you doing here? You should be sleeping, getting ready for your party. What’s going on?”

Barry blinked hard, lifting his gaze from the floor slowly. Finally, he looked at Len. He looked mad. And worried. Tears flooded Barry’s vision, and he slumped forward. His head fell on Len’s shoulder, his shaking hands curling in the fabric of his jacket.

“Lenny,” he sobbed. “He didn’t do it. He _didn’t_ , okay? He didn’t do it!”

“Who?” Len asked. He sounded panicked. “Barry, what? Who didn’t do what?”

“That’s enough, Barry,” Joe said sternly. He gripped the back of the boy’s jacket, tugging a bit harsher than necessary. “Let’s go. Let go of Len.”

Len gripped his arm tighter, almost to the point of pain. “Wait. Barry! What happened?”

Barry was almost torn free of him, desperately grasping at his hand. “Len! Len! He didn’t do it! You have to believe me! It was the lightning man! Please! Please! _He didn’t do it!_ You have to find the man in yellow. _The man in the yellow suit_ , Lenny, please! It was him!”

Len’s blue eyes were wide in surprise and panic as Barry slipped through his fingers. “Okay!” he shouted. “Okay, Barry, I believe you! I’ll—I’ll find him!”

“ _Lenny!_ ”

Barry’s screech rang through the halls, making anyone near him flinch.

“ _Lenny!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The fish tank. The water in it—it was floating.”  
> -  
> “I…the street! I was at that intersection!”  
> “What intersection?”  
> “The one in the picture! It’s in your house—Iris showed it to me one time.”  
> -  
> “I needed to stabilize the knife. I’m a doctor! I was trying to save her! I didn’t kill my wife—Joe! Tell ‘em! You know me, our kids are friends. You tell ‘em, Joe!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe interrogates Barry. He doesn't get to Henry. Henry tries to explain.
> 
> (Appearance by douchebag Officer Johnson as Henry's interrogator.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

“I’m telling you, he didn’t do it!”

“Barry, you have to know that this—this man you think you saw—”

“I know I saw him!”

“Why don’t we go through what happened one more time, then maybe we can understand? Maybe something else will come to you, huh? Maybe you’ll remember what really happened.”

“I already _told_ you what happened!”

“One more time. What made you get out of bed?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up. It wasn’t anything particular.”

“Then what happened?”

“I—I saw the…The fish tank. The water in it—it was floating. I thought that there was an earthquake, because the ground was shaking and the water was swishing around. But it wasn’t just swishing; it just stayed in the air. It stayed in the air longer than it was supposed to—it was…I was like that thing, that—gravity, it wasn’t working. And then there was a flash outside, in the hallway.”

“What kind of flash?”

“I—I don’t know. Bright, bright yellow. It wasn’t really just one, I think; it looked kinda like—like party lights? What are those called?”

“Disco? Flashlights? Strobe lights?”

“Strobe, yeah, like that. Lots of flashes really fast. So I went out looking for Mom and Dad because it was kinda scary. And I went downstairs and I—I saw Mom in the living room.”

“What was happening in the living room?”

“It was like a tornado! But not like the tornado in Keystone last year, right? It wasn’t just windy. There was lightning. A lot of lightning. And it was so windy—the windows were broken, and one of the chairs flew and broke against the wall. And then the blur—the blur in the tornado—it stopped. It stopped right in front of me and—he was _mean_. He was wearing a weird yellow suit, and I think there was a picture on the front, but he was…I guess he was shaking? But I think he was doing it on purpose. And he only stopped for a second, but he—he glared at me. It was so evil. He had red eyes, and when he moved again, the red lightning went with him.”

“The red lightning. What other color was there?”

“Yellow. There was red and yellow. But they—they were different. I don’t know, they felt different. The red lightning hurt, but the yellow stuff didn’t touch me.”

“Uh-huh. And how did you get away?”

“I—I don’t know. Mom told me not to come in the living room, but I went over anyway. Then Dad was there. I pulled me out of the living room and toward the door. He told me to run. He—he grabbed my shoulders and he told me I had to get out, that I had to run.”

“So you ran?”

“No. No—I don’t think so? I don’t remember running. I just—I was—the next thing I knew, I was twenty blocks away.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I…the street! I was at that intersection!”

“What intersection?”

“The one in the picture! It’s in your house—Iris showed it to me one time. It’s a picture of her mom and her, with the hospital in the background. She—told me about it, once. She said she could see our street from there, but it was far away, like twenty blocks. And it is! It is, because you can see the hospital from our street, but it’s a lot farther away.”

“…The intersection of Anglen Boulevard and Stino Street?”

“Yeah! And—And the yellow lightning…not the red, just the yellow—it followed me. Or maybe it took me there. But now you know! It was the man in lightning! The man in yellow! The man in the yellow suit ki—murd—did that to my mom! It wasn’t my dad!”

“Now, Barry—”

“No! No. No, I—There was lightning in my house. Yellow and red lightning. There was a man in yellow…Then I was on the street. I dunno how I got there. Please…you—you have to believe me!”

* * *

“What did you do to that boy, _Doc_?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Where is my son?”

“He’s fine, Allen. But back to the real story here. See, what _I_ wanna know is—how did you manage to convince him to go along with it?”

“Along with _what_?”

“With the murder of his _mother_.”

“ _What_?”

“Come on, Allen, we both know that story about lightning can’t be real. So let’s cut to the chase, huh? How’d you do it? How’d you convince your eleven-year-old son that it was okay that you killed his mother?”

“No, I did _not_ do this.”

“So what happened?”

“I told you! The lightning—humph—it—the lightning—humph—was in the house. I told my son to run, he disappeared. That’s when I saw the blood. The blood—the—the blood on Nora.”

“Your prints are on the murder weapon.”

“I needed to stabilize the knife. I’m a _doctor_! I was trying to _save_ her! I didn’t kill my wife—Joe! Tell ‘em! You know me, our kids are friends. You tell ‘em, Joe!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you, Lieutenant Singh.”  
> “Sure, Barry. You can call me David if you want.”  
> -  
> “What are you drawing?”  
> “This is my house. This is what happened. Nobody believes me.”  
> -  
> “The yellow stuff felt different. It was only for a second, but I felt…”  
> “Safe?”  
> “Yeah. I felt safe. Like…like it was a hug. But the man in yellow—the guy with the red lightning—he was really mean, I think. He—he looked mean. He looked at me and he just seemed really mean and evil and I was scared he would hurt me.”  
> -  
> “You can keep it if you bring Lenny to me.”  
> “Okay. What’s that?”  
> “Lenny. He’s the boss. The boss of the Rogues.”  
> -  
> “That’s what it smells like, though, right? When lightning strikes or there are sparks or something?”  
> “There’s something in the air that makes it smell like that, I think. Ozone or somethin’.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Lieutenant David Singh.
> 
> The Rogues are better investigators than the CCPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

Barry spent the rest of the night on the sofa in Captain Fallweil's office—he wasn't in there, anyway, since he had some kind of meeting with the Commander and Chief of Police across town.

Lieutenant Singh came in a few times. He was a nice man. He looked nice, at least; his face seemed kind, with slightly darker skin than Len and brown eyes darker than Iris'. Plus he was kind of short, so Barry felt more comfortable around him than he did around the captain or Officer Johnson or Detective Snart.

The lieutenant gave him a spare blanket and brought him water, and even got him a new sketchpad when Barry realized he'd filled the rest of his up over the last couple of hours.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Singh," Barry told him. He dug around in his backpack, pulling out a new pencil.

"Sure, Barry," he said with a smile. "You can call me David if you want."

The boy shrugged. "Okay. David, do you know when I can go home?"

His lips turned down. "I don't know, kid. Maybe in the morning."

"Okay."

Barry started drawing, his pencil scratching quick and easy against the paper. David broke the silence after a few minutes.

"What are you drawing?"

"I—"

He looked down at the page, recognizing the shapes. He scribbled in the rest of the picture, as clearly as possible, and then showed the man.

"This is my house. This is what happened." He frowned, sniffling. "Nobody believes me."

David looked the drawing over. "Okay. What are the squiggles?"

"That's the lightning tornado," he said softly. "It's how the man in yellow got there."

"Why is some of it darker?"

"The light stuff is yellow. It's the good lightning, the stuff that saved me. The dark stuff is red. It came from the evil man—it hurt."

"Hurt?" David asked, startled. "It touched you?"

Barry nodded slowly, pulling his jacket and shirt up over his ribs. "Right here." He pointed at a patch of red welts on his side. "It felt like that one time Lisa dropped a sparkler on my arm and I had to go to the doctor to get special band-aids."

David made him move into the light so he could take a picture, then he helped him clean it and bandage it up. It felt a lot better then.

"Thank you."

"It's what we do here, kid. We help people." He ruffled his hair, and then he held out the drawing. "So. The man in yellow made red lightning? Where did the yellow stuff come from?"

Barry shrugged, trying to draw his mother's hair, the way it looked flying in the wind. "Don't know. I think there might have been somebody else."

"Why do you think that?"

"It saved me," Barry repeated, his face serious. "It took me away from the house and it left me at the intersection. It must have. There's no way I—I just—I don't know how I got there, that's what I told Joe. That's why I—"

"Barry," the man warned. "Calm down. It's alri—"

He just huffed in frustration, throwing his free hand up. "I had to get there somehow!" he growled. "So I think somebody else was there, but I never saw him—her—them—whoever it was. And...and I think it went back to—to try to...So I think there was somebody else."

"How do you know it was the red lightning that hurt you, not the yellow?"

He shrugged again. "The red stuff was closer when I felt it. And the yellow stuff felt different. It was only for a second, but I felt...uh...I dunno. Not happy, but...There's a word for it..."

"Safe?"

"Yeah." Barry nodded. "I felt safe. Like...like it was a hug. But the man in yellow—the guy with the red lightning—he was really mean, I think. He—he looked mean. He looked at me and he just seemed really mean and evil and I was scared he would hurt me."

David nodded. "Okay. Was the man in yellow wearing a mask?"

"Yeah. But not like a—not like a burglar."

"No?"

Barry shook his head. "It—like a superhero."

He pursed his lips in confusion, hesitating. "...A...superhero...?"

The boy dug through his bag again, pulling out a stack of comic books and sorting through them, searching for the right one. He pointed at the man on the cover. "Well, not a hero, more like a bad guy, like this guy. It had eye-holes in it, and his mouth and chin were open. But I couldn't really tell what he looked like, because he was shaking."

"Like he was cold?"

"Faster," Barry told him. "Like...uh...like a bee? Buzzing? Kinda."

David nodded slowly, looking at the drawing. "Barry?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I keep this?"

"Why?"

"I think it might help get your dad home."

"But..." Barry's brow scrunched, and he crossed his arms. "But Dad didn't do anything. Why wouldn't he come home?"

"I know, Barry." He sighed. "But don't you want to do something to help?"

Barry didn't talk for a while. "You can keep it if you bring Lenny to me."

"Okay. What's that?"

" _Lenny_ ," he emphasized. "He's the boss. The boss of the Rogues." David just looked at him, blinking. Barry rolled his eyes, huffing with a pout. "He's in my class. His dad works here. He's got a little sister who's super cute and shiny and nice, but his dad is really mean and I don't think anyone who's that mean should be police, but I don't make the rules."

David blinked again, shaking his head. "Lenny— _Leonard Snart_? That's who you want?"

Barry nodded quickly. "Yeah, Lenny. He was here earlier, but he told me he was gonna go find the man in yellow, so you have to go find him, okay? If you bring him here, you can have the drawing. And...uh, and...if you find Lenny and he's got Shawna-Boo and Sparky-Marky with him, they can come, too. But don't let Iris come. Iris can't come here, no, sir. She might get hurt if the yellow man comes back. So she can't come. But you gotta get Lenny. And maybe Shawna and Mark. Because I think Lenny mighta gone to get them, because they're BFFs. And he probably went to get Mick, too, but Mickey doesn't like police, so he'll run away and maybe go stay with Ronnie, because Ronnie's building him a little metal thing with flames so he can see fire without gettin' hurt. So you gotta just get Lenny. Okay? Okay. Deal?"

The lieutenant's eyebrows were almost hidden in his hairline, his eyes wide, and he looked like he was going to laugh, but he took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly. "Yeah. Deal."

* * *

Len didn't find the man in yellow when he went looking, but he told Barry that he was going to keep looking. He also told him that Mick, Sam, Ronnie, and Cisco had snuck over to Barry's house when the police were trading places with CSI.

"They didn't touch anything," he promised quietly.

He didn't want the people outside to hear him—Barry, Len, and Shawna were alone for now, but there were people stationed right outside the door, so they weren't really _alone_. "They didn't move nothin'. But Sam took his mom's camera and they took pictures of everything. And Cisco found a weird burn mark outside, so he took some of it home with him to try to get Hartley to help him figure out what it was. Mick said your house smells funny."

Barry frowned. "What?"

"He said your house smells funny," Len repeated. "He said it smells like the time he set Axel's rubber-band ball on fire. Remember?"

His nose crinkled. "That was gross."

"Yeah," Shawna agreed. "That's what it smells like, though, right? When lightning strikes or there are sparks or something?"

"I mean, yeah," Barry said. "There's something in the air that makes it smell like that, I think. Ozone or somethin'." He rubbed at his nose, suddenly realizing that the sleeves of his nightshirt were a little singed under his jacket. His sight blurred a little, and he looked at Len with big eyes. "Lenny? We're gonna find the yellow man, right? So I can go home with Dad?"

Len sat next to him on the couch. "Yeah, kid. We'll find him."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Shawna put her fingers in his hair, tugging a little. "You should get some sleep, Barry. You gotta be ready, right?"

He nodded slowly, turning to lie down on the sofa. "Can you guys stay for a little while?" His voice sounded small to his own ears. "I don't wanna be alone."

Shawna kept petting his hair softly, murmuring, "Okay, Barry. Go to sleep."

He felt Len squeeze his ankle. "We'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t run from me, Barry Allen. I will find you! You will die!”  
> -  
> “He’s trying to kill me, Len. He’s gonna find me. He’s gonna kill me.”  
> -  
> “Don’t even think about it, Officer. Get Lieutenant Singh and Detective West.”  
> -  
> “Why aren’t you asleep?”  
> “I was waiting for you to bring Barry home.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares, panic attacks, shock, and tears.
> 
> It gets worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

Barry woke up alone.

The precinct was quiet, for once, though by the slant of the light filtering through the windows it had to be mid-morning. He had a blanket tucked around him, his hand curled around the strap of his bag and his head propped up on the arm of the sofa. Sitting up, he could smell coffee beans and something sweet, like strawberries.

Barry blinked, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he tried to get his other hand to unclench from his book bag. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing at CCPD—everything was hazy, and it hurt to think. It hurt to do anything, really. His head ached, his ribs stung, his eye was pulsing. When he finally managed to get his hand to work, it was numb from overuse.

He stood, stretching, and looked outside the office. The bullpen was empty, not a single officer in sight. He wondered where they were. He’d never seen the place empty, not once in five years. He decided to investigate, walking slowly to the door.

He didn’t get more than two steps before it was blasted open.

A man stood in front of him. A man in a yellow suit. He gripped his upper arms and glared down at him, his eyes a beady red in a blurry face.

“I will find you,” the man growled. His voice was distorted, almost filled with static. “You can’t run from me, _Barry Allen_. I will find you! You will die!”

Barry screamed, bolting upright on the sofa. Someone was gripping his arm, and he flailed, throwing them off.

He heard a yelp, followed by the slam of a door. It was the latter that made him flinch, and he cowered into the corner of the sofa, whimpering.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. No! You can’t find me! I don’t want to die!”

“Barry. Barry! _Barry_!”

The last shriek made him flinch harder than before, but it also snapped him out of his stupor.

Rather than being in the grasp of the man in yellow, Barry was in the dimly-lit office of the police captain. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or two—it was still pitch black outside.

Looking up, his green eyes connected with a pair of blue ones. They were hard, icy. He was breathing too heavily to think, not getting enough air.

 _The man in yellow. The man in yellow._ It was repeated over and over in his head like a mantra. _He’s coming. He’s trying to kill me. The man in yellow._

A hand gripped his wrist.

“Focus, Barry,” Len hissed. “One thing at a time. Do you feel this?” The grip tightened. “That’s me. Forget about everything else. I’m here. Just me.”

Barry’s eyes flickered away, his breath still sputtering unsteadily and not bringing enough in, but Len grabbed his chin harshly in his other hand.

“No,” he said harshly. “No one else. Just me. Breathe with me. In for three, hold three, out three. Ready? In, two, three. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three. Again.”

It took eight cycles of breathing to get himself under control.

Finally, Barry croaked, “Len.”

“Barry.”

“He’s trying to kill me, Len.”

Len looked sad. “Okay.”

“He’s gonna find me. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Okay.”

“I—”

“ _Nothin’_ is gonna happen to you, Barry,” Len said sternly. “I promise. They’re gonna find him.”

“Barry—”

Len’s head snapped to the side, and he wrapped a protective arm around Barry. “Don’t even think about it, Officer,” he ground out. Barry glanced over, seeing a badge he was sure he’d never seen before. “Get Lieutenant Singh and Detective West.”

The officer looked irritated about getting an order from a kid less than half his age, but he left anyway.

“Lenny, where’s Sh—Shawna?” Barry asked after a moment, sniffling.

“Her dad came and got her,” Len said quietly. “She wanted to stay, but she couldn’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

David and Joe arrived then, the former looking exhausted, the latter looking defeated.

Joe came and sat next to Barry. “Did you have a bad dream, Bear?” He nodded. “What was it about?”

“The man in yellow,” he muttered. “He said he was gonna find me. And that I was gonna die.”

Joe sighed, patting his knee. “We’re not gonna let anything happen to ya, son.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Later, after he told them what happened again, after he sat and waited and begged to see his dad again and again, after the sun set and the clock ticked past eleven, Joe took Barry home with him.

“Why can’t Dad come home?”

Joe looked sad. “He’s still in questioning, Barry.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Barry stayed quiet after that.

By the time they got to Joe’s house, and the moon was high in the sky with sunrise still hourse away, Barry wasn’t feeling like talking much, anyway.

Days later, when he eventually came out of it, Cisco, Ronnie, Len, Iris and Mark would all agree that he was probably in shock. He didn’t really remember those days except for a few hazy memories here and there.

Getting inside the West home, seeing Iris come down the stairs in her flower robe.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Joe called.

“I was waiting for you to bring Barry home.”

“He’s gonna be stayin’ with us for a while, longer than before. Can you show him the guestroom, sweetheart?”

Iris nodded with a grin, holding her hand out to Barry.

“It’s gonna be okay, son. Go ahead.”

Barry took her hand, looking up at her imploringly. “Iris. My dad?” She nodded. “He didn’t do it.”

“I believe you. Come on.”

Later, after putting his stuff away and lying in the dark for a long time so that the night became blurry and indistinct and time held no meaning anymore in the haze of his mind, he crept down the stairs and into the living room. He sat on the couch for an undeterminable amount of time, staring at the lit fireplace.

By the time he realized he was sobbing, Iris was coming down after him. Len followed her, too, though he couldn’t remember the other boy coming in. The two of them sat on either side of him.

Iris took his hand. “Barry.”

He sniffled.

Len put a hand on his shoulder. He tipped over, his head landing in the other boy’s lap. Len combed his fingers through his hair, and Iris wove her fingers through his over his hip, and Barry cried.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Am I an orphan?”  
> -  
> "But you said. You said. You said they could use the drawing! And I told the truth!"  
> -  
> “I wanna see my dad now.”  
> “I know. But you can’t.”  
> “Why not?”  
> “Joe adopted you. It’s his choice.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's Not Okay [He Promises].
> 
> Also, David tries Really Hard, but things still kinda suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

It takes Barry six days and a fairly...distasteful catalyst to wake from his haze.

Apparently, between Joe, Iris, Len, Lisa, Captain Fallweil, and Lieutenant Singh, they managed to convince Detective Snart to let Len and Lisa stay over at Joe's place for a week or so. Just until Barry was--not _okay_ , he'd never really be okay, but better. He needed his friends.

Barry wasn't sure how they managed to convince him. He'd only really heard the beginning of the conversation.

"Why should I give up my kids to help that one?" Snart had snarled. "Iza and Leo are _mine_."

"Considering I take care of those kids more than you do, I don't see how you can be so hurt about it," Joe had growled right back.

Captain Fallweil had gotten between them quickly, defusing the situation. Vaguely, Barry recalled Len muttering about hating the name Leo, while Lisa pouted and said something like, "Lisa wi' a _ess_ not a _zuh_."

He'd pretty much blanked after that.

The rest of the week was gone, lost to him entirely. He couldn't remember what time he got up every morning or what he ate at meal times or what he said in any given conversation or what the reporter who came to Joe's house was asking. He couldn't remember if he talked, even, but given the surprise on everyone's faces the next week, he would wager on a _no_ for that one.

It started on Monday.

Joe made them all go back to school. Barry didn't fight him on it. He didn't say anything at all, in fact. He got up--or maybe he didn't sleep at all, he couldn't really remember--got dressed, brushed his teeth, packed his book bag, and walked to school with Iris and Len.

The three of them had been excused from the homework from the weekend. They had new homework on Monday night. Barry was pretty sure he did it, but he couldn't remember what it was about or what his answers were five minutes after putting it away. He went to his new room after he was done and pretended to sleep--or maybe he did sleep, he wasn't sure--when Joe tried to get him to the table for dinner.

(Joe had stood by the bedside for twenty minutes trying to wake him up, but eventually sighed. He went back downstairs to feed Iris, Len, and Lisa, who were all worried about Barry and too sad to really focus on what they were eating. It was the first time Joe was able to get Lisa to eat vegetables willingly, but he couldn't feel happy with the accomplishment.)

On Tuesday and Wednesday, Joe and Len took every precaution to keep news and gossip from reaching Barry. They turned TVs off, flipped stations on the radio from local to national, steered him away from pitying or bitter glances. Anything to keep Barry from being pulled into something he was too young to be getting dragged into.

On Thursday, it didn't matter. It happened anyway.

Barry didn't know who said the bitter remark. By the time he processed the words, it was hours later. He and Len were in Math, their seats closer than normal because Len wanted to be nearby in case Barry needed to get out.

It hadn't happened since Monday, when Barry had started crying in the middle of Art and had to be taken out of the hall by Roy. (It was the only class he didn't have with Iris or Len.) Roy had told Len that he didn't think Barry even knew he was crying, because he hadn't even answered when the teacher asked what was wrong, and he hadn't really said anything when Roy pulled him up and outside. Roy said it was scary. Barry didn't show any emotion other than tears. He didn't even seem to remember it happening.

So Len was sitting less than six inches away from Barry while they did their math worksheet. Barry didn't seem to be thinking about the answers he was writing, but when Len looked over to check, he saw that they were all right.

Because they were so close to each other, when Barry spoke in a quiet voice, Len startled at the seeming loudness. Then his eyes widened when he realized who was speaking, his mouth dropping open when he registered the words.

"Am I an orphan?"

Len didn't answer for a minute, and Barry turned to look at him. The movement alerted Cisco, Ronnie, and Mark, who were sitting around the two of them.

"Len." Barry blinked. His eyes were clear for the first time in days. "My mom is dead." He frowned, blinking four times in rapid succession. "She's _gone_. Everybody thinks..." He sniffled, looking back down. "If my dad goes to jail, does that mean I'm an orphan?"

Len stayed quiet, just watching Barry. Finally, he took his hand. "No."

Barry looked up again. "It doesn't?"

He shook his head. "I think orphan means you don't have a family. But you do, right? Detective West and Iris. And the Rogues. And me and Lisa. And Lieutenant Singh. Right? So you can't be an orphan."

Now Barry was the quiet one. Len waited for a solid minute and a half before squeezing his hand in brief panic. He didn't want him to slip away again.

Finally, after three minutes and seventeen seconds, Barry looked up at him. He didn't smile, but he nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

The trial was over before any of the kids was really aware of what was happening.

Barry had to beg--actually beg--Joe and David to tell him what happened. To explain why his dad was gone. To justify an innocent man being sent to jail. To describe the court.

Three days after his father was sent to prison, David sat him down and told him.

"I know you think your dad didn't do it," he started. "And I'm not saying I don't believe you. I don't have enough--enough _reason_ or _evidence_ to say one way or the other. But..." He sighed. "Barry, I'm sorry. There was too much evidence against your dad. It was too much. He's not coming back."

"But you said," Barry said. His voice was quiet, but growing louder. "You _said_. You said they could use the drawing! And I told the truth! Wasn't it just like what Dad said? Did he not see the lightning man? Because I swear he was there!"

David sighed again. "I know that's what I told you, Barry, but...they wouldn't use the drawing. And they didn't consider your story. If you were older, able to testify, maybe. But you're not, and they can't trust your word. Even if they had, it wouldn't have been enough. Nothing was enough to prove his innocence. There was too much saying he was guilty."

Barry looked down at the table in front of him. "So I'm alone now? I can't ever go home? I'll never see my dad again?"

David shook his head. "You're not alone, kid. You've got Joe and Iris. You...you're gonna live with them now. And maybe someday, when you're really ready, you'll get to see your dad again."

"I..." He sniffled. "I wanna see my dad _now_."

"I know. But you can't."

"Why _not_?"

"Joe adopted you," was all he would say. "It's his choice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There ain’t a lotta locks that can keep me in or out."  
> -  
> “My tummy need to shut its cakehole.”  
> -  
> “Detective West knows every inch of this city like the back of his hand, kid. If you wanna get away from ‘im, yer gonna need a distraction.”  
> -  
> "I don’t want you seeing me, not like this.”  
> -  
> "We’ll get you out. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it. I’ll do it by myself if I have to."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry keeps running around--Len just wants him to eat something.
> 
> The prison visit scene happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

The rest of the school year was pretty monotonous—inasmuch as every day passed in practically the same way.

Len and Lisa weren’t allowed at Joe’s anymore. Detective Snart had made a big fuss and they were back home with him. They both hated it, according to Len.

“He’s not my dad, Bear,” Len said quietly one day. “He’s not nice enough to be my dad.”

He couldn’t even sneak away to the West house at night. Snart had him with him every night, doing…things. Len wouldn’t say what they were, but Barry got this bad feeling that they weren’t good. The only time Barry and Iris got to see Len was at school, and they didn’t see Lisa at all for months.

Because of this, Len wasn’t there to help or hinder Barry when he started running away. Iris and Barry were sure he would help—Joe would have bet money that the boy would side with him.

Barry just wanted to see his dad. He just wanted to sit in the same room as him, just for a little while. He wanted to talk to him, ask him how this happened to them. It wasn’t right. Barry didn’t just lose his mom but his dad, too, and he at least knew enough to know that kids shouldn’t go through these types of things. He just wanted to _understand_.

Joe wouldn’t let him see his dad, so Barry took to running away after school, trying to get to the prison. He was caught every time.

He hated Joe.

Well, hate is a bit of a strong word. He was simply so angry that he avoided him at every turn. He said he hated him—said it often—but he was just frustrated. He might not know that yet, but everyone else did.

In the meantime, Barry barely ate. He locked himself in the spare room for hours on end, refused to go to the park with Joe on weekends, anything to be contrary. Anything to avoid his foster father.

There were others Barry avoided, too. He wouldn’t talk to David at all, would actually make a point to exit any room he saw him in. Same went for most other officers. He’d sit with Iris sometimes, but he wouldn’t talk. He barely talked to Len, but he didn’t shy away from him like he did with most others.

Really, he would only sit with Iris and Len, would only talk to Len, would only yell at Joe, and anyone else was mostly ignored or avoided.

Of course, there was one person who didn’t take to being ignored.

Tony had taken to pushing his buttons as often as possible.

It started slow. A simple “freak” or “orphan” in the halls, generally followed by a shove of varying strength. As Barry continued to ignore him, though, it got worse.

Iris and Len were by his side every minute of the day, and if they couldn’t be, Mark and Shawna—or Mick and Bette, sometimes even Sam and Rosa—would step in like it was normal. It freaked Barry out sometimes, when he wasn’t simply too lost in thought to think about it.

Don’t misunderstand. Barry loved his friends still, despite everything going to hell in a hand basket. It was just…he went six years having just Iris. Sure, he talked to a few others, but nothing like this. Now it’s like he’s got some kind of protection detail on him twenty-four seven. Which is really unfair, when you think about it, because he’s not the only one who needs help. They think he doesn’t notice these things.

They think he doesn’t see the bruises on Len’s arms and throat, the scratches on his hands. They think he doesn’t notice the circles under Iris’ eyes and the twinge in her neck she gets from sleeping in the hall outside his room. They don’t think he sees the tiny burns on Mick’s face and hands, the lost look in Shawna’s eyes some mornings, the sad looks Mark shoots his brother whenever the boy gets reprimanded for stealing. That he can’t see Sam and Rosa trying to lure Roscoe to the Rogues or the way Bette flinches when a locker shuts too hard. How Ronnie and Cisco make it a point to include Hartley in their group projects, just to keep him out of his house. The way Roy’s hand clenches around his paint brushes hard enough to break them, sometimes, because he just wants to hit someone so bad. The way Axel buries himself in pranks every time he starts thinking too hard, just to bury the thoughts again so he doesn’t have to go through the pain.

They think he doesn’t _notice_ , but he _does_.

Maybe it’s because he’s grown to care for them over the years, even more over the last month or so.

Maybe it’s Len’s attentive nature rubbing off on him.

Or maybe it’s just a natural intuition.

He doesn’t know.

But it _hurts_.

* * *

Over the summer, the Rogues are scattered.

Hartley’s family takes him on a vacation for three months to some island somewhere. He didn’t want to go, an opinion he voiced loudly the Saturday before break, when they were all gathered for the last Rogues meeting with everyone together until after summer.

Ronnie and Cisco were going to an engineering camp. By sheer coincidence, they managed to be roommates. They invited Barry early in the year, before…But after that, he didn’t really feel in the mood to build bridges and electrical lines.

Bette was going to be in a kiddy boot camp for most of the summer. Shawna was staying with Rosa for the summer—they were going to the Dillons’ grandmother’s house for a couple of months while Rosa and Roscoe’s mom got over some issues.

Mick and Len were sticking close to each other, but Detective Snart wouldn’t let his kids go anywhere without him anymore.

“Not that that’ll stop me,” Len had told Barry and Iris with a crooked grin, puffing his chest out. “There ain’t a lotta locks that can keep me in or out. I’ll come over sometime. Don’t know if I can bring Lise, but I’ll try, a’ight?”

Mark was stuck at home until he made up with his brother. Roy was in Keystone visiting his aunt for an undetermined amount of time.

Everyone was gone.

Not that it really mattered to Barry. Well, it actually did, but it wasn’t like it made any difference in his own summer plans. He spent as much time as possible alone. He didn’t even eat, at least not anything substantial.

The only time Barry showed any kind of emotion or desire or _anything_ was when he ran away. It happened a lot over the break. There was only a slight decrease once school started—and that was only because Len convinced him he should maybe, probably… _plan_ his escapes a little.

But even then, he was caught every time. Eventually, something snapped.

“Barry,” Len said one day, poking his arm.

They were all at lunch, but study hall was next, so they mainly just stayed outside for the full hour. It was still warm outside—not even September yet. The two of them were sitting away from the others. Iris wasn’t even there that day; her history class had an “introductory fieldtrip” to the _Keystone Metropolitan Museum of Art and Natural History_ , and she’d been looking forward to it all summer.

“Hey, Lisa made me promise to make ya eat this sandwich. Her ma made an extra one this morning.”

“I’m not really hungry, Lenny,” he replied easily, drawing a new path on his map. “Why don’t you eat it?”

“Come on, Bear. You know I can’t lie to Lisa. She’ll be so sad if you don’t eat it.”

Barry shrugged. “I’m just not hungry.”

Len gave him a blank look when, not two seconds later, Barry’s stomach growled. “You might not be, but I think your tummy is.”

“My tummy need to shut its cakehole.” He frowned down at his desk.

His eyes were drooping again, Len noticed. He seemed to be tired a lot now. He never really smiled. Len was pretty sure the sandwich would be the first thing he ate in at least two weeks—maybe more, they’d only been in school for twelve days.

Iris had asked Len to look out for him, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that when Barry wouldn’t let him help.

After almost twenty minutes of trying and failing to get Barry to _eat the stupid sandwich already, please_ , Len set it aside and propped his chin in his palm with a sigh.

“What are you working on, anyway?”

Barry blinked at him slowly, his face blank as he processed the question. “Uh…well. There’s gotta be a way to get to my dad without Iris’ dad catching me. I just gotta find it.”

Len frowned for a minute, his eyes distant. A minute later, Barry went back to drawing lines.

“Detective West knows every inch of this city like the back of his hand, kid,” he finally drawled. “If you wanna get away from ‘im, yer gonna need a distraction.”

Barry sighed. “I know. But he’s watching me close lately.”

“Didn’t you explode on him last week? Seems like he’s right to be worried about you.”

“He’s not worried about me,” he snapped. “He just doesn’t want me to see my dad cuz he hates us.”

The fire in his eyes came back for a split second—it was the first time Len had seen it since his mom died. Len almost sighed in relief at the sight, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

“Barry,” Len deadpanned. “West has known you for a long time. He’s known your dad longer, I think. He doesn’t hate you.”

“But he doesn’t believe us,” Barry muttered. “And that’s pretty much the same thing.”

Len just sighed, loud and heavy.

“Maybe Iris will help me get out…”

* * *

“Barry, son…How did you get here?”

He shifted on the hard bench, his eyes wide and glassy. “I ran,” he told him readily. “Joe wouldn’t bring me—I _hate_ him!”

Henry Allen sighed. “No—Barry, don’t—don’t say that, okay? Joe’s just tryin’a take care of ya.”

“You di’n’t do these things! I don’t get it! Why can’t I just _see_ you?”

“It’s not Joe who doesn’t want you here,” Henry said firmly. “It’s me, I don’t want you…seeing me, not like this.” He showed him the cuffs on his hands. “Right? I don’t want that for you.”

“But you’re my dad!” Barry protested.

“I will always be your dad, Barry. Always. But Joe’s taking care of you now, okay? For now, you just gotta be the good little boy that your mom and I always said you were. Can you do that?”

He shook his head violently, tearing up. “I don’t wanna live with Joe. I want you to come home!”

Henry sighed, observing his son for a moment. He turned to the officer. “Can I please hold my son?”

The officer hesitated before nodding. “Two more minutes, Allen.”

The older man stood and knelt by the bench, pulling Barry to stand in front of him and holding his hands in his.

“What happened, Barry?” he asked quietly. “You’re too bony. Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like you’ve been punched in the face—and before you say anything, I’ve seen what that looks like on you. Did you think I didn’t notice all the times you ‘fell down the stairs’?”

Barry looked down, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Henry said sternly, shaking his arms. “Barry, you have to take care of yourself, okay? You—do you think this is what your mom would want? No, it’s not. You know it’s not.” His gaze softened. “Son, please. Let Joe take care of you. Let your friends help you. Don’t let—don’t let yourself get hurt too bad. Be happy, stay healthy. You want to help me, right? David said you tried so hard to help me.”

“I just don’t get why you’re in here when the man in yellow is out there. I don’t get it.”

“I know, Bear, I know. But you can still help me, right? You can—you can _live_ , Barry. That’s all I want for you. If you live, then I can be stuck in here forever and still be happy. So be good for Joe, okay? Be good.”

Tears were pouring down Barry’s face then, but he nodded. “Okay, Dad. Okay. But you’re gonna get out someday, right? We’ll get you out. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it. I’ll do it by myself if I have to. ”

Henry didn’t say anything, just nodded and pulled him close for a moment.

Then the time was up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It’s been…six months, Barry. You gotta eat, son.”  
> -  
> “Mama? Mama gone.”  
> -  
> “The hell are you doing here, West?”  
> -  
> “Lisa would forget what color shirt she was wearing if left to her own devices."  
> -  
> “Stop that crying, boy. Real men never cry.”  
> “That glass isn’t gonna pick itself up, now is it?”  
> “If I ever see you pull something like that again, I swear to God, I’ll—”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry isn't so good, Joe is suspicious, and Lewis wins deadbeat dad of the year award yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

Even after talking to his dad, Barry didn’t get better, not really.

If anything, he seemed to be even _more_ obstinate.

He wouldn’t eat at all anymore, especially refusing food around Joe or Len. Iris tried to trick him sometimes, tried to get him to gnaw on gummies or eat a high-calorie energy bar. It never worked for long.

Barry lashed out all the time—he started talking back to teachers, getting into fights with the Evil Horde, getting into fights with _everyone_ , really. He was mad all the time, and no one was sure why or how to help.

Almost a month had passed since Barry visited his dad, and when Joe caught Barry scribbling silly doodles of his parents—his mom in particular, just simple drawings of her smiling face or her hand holding a glass at the dinner table or the way her earrings glinted in the sun—he figured it out.

Iris made mac ‘n’ cheese for Barry, leaving Joe to the job of dragging him out from his room and over to the dining table half an hour after he sent her to bed. He set a glass of milk and one of water beside the bowl for the boy to choose from.

“Iris' mac ‘n’ cheese is your favorite,” Joe said.

“I’m not hungry,” Barry protested flatly. He didn’t look up from the table.

“It’s been…six months, Barry,” he said incredulously, setting his glass down. “You gotta eat, son.”

As expected, the boy just shoved the bowl away with a scowl, his eyes on the table.

Joe pursed his lips, sighing again. “That’s a good move,” he placated. “You know, bein’ angry all the time. I get it.”

Barry twitched a little, shifting, but he didn’t look up.

“I get it,” Joe repeated. “You miss your mom and dad, you wanna show ‘em you’re strong. Being mad all the time—it makes it easier. The tougher thing to do…would be to let yourself _feel_.”

Barry ducked his head lower, avoiding Joe’s gaze.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Joe said. He leaned closer, trying to make his point clear. If this didn’t work…he was out of ideas. “You can be _sad_ , Bear. Your parents will understand if you’re not strong all the time. That is why I’m here, right? To help you, take care of you when you’re not strong. Or when you are. That is why I am here.”

He trailed off, just standing near Barry’s chair. The boy didn’t look at him for a minute, his eyes and lips turned down in a deep frown.

Then, suddenly, he was up out of his seat and throwing his arms around Joe.

The detective’s eyes widened, but he wrapped the kid up in a hug. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, son. I got you.”

Joe stayed with his son for the rest of the night.

* * *

You already know that West and Snart don’t get along. You might know that Lewis Snart took his son with him on his…trips.

You probably didn’t know that _Joe_ knows Snart takes Len with him.

This is a problem. Mostly because of _how_ he finds out. And when.

It was the middle of September, and Joe was on patrol. Lewis should have been doing a sweep, too, but he took the night off for…reasons.

At the time of the request, Joe hadn’t cared. Once the night arrived, though, he was suspicious. He rode over to the Snart house, just to check around. Little Lisa was the one who answered the door.

“Mista West!” she squealed. “What’a you doin’ here?”

“Hey, Lisa,” he said gently. “Is your dad home?”

The girl shook her head. “No, Mista West. He ‘n’ Lenny are out ta-night.”

“Oh, yeah? Did they say where they were going?” She shook her head again, and he sighed. “Okay, well, can I talk to your mom?”

Lisa frowned, blinking in confusion. “Mama? Mama gone.”

Now, Joe wasn’t exactly up-to-date in the minutiae of his partner’s life—not by a longshot—but he was fairly certain that Snart had said something about Carrie taking some time off because of some health problems. She should have been home in bed, unless…

“Is she at the doctor’s?” Joe asked Lisa.

“No.”

Well. That was that.

“Okay.” He knelt down in front of the girl. “Do you know where your mama went?”

Lisa shrugged, tilting her head. “Can’t remember. Long time ‘go.”

Joe grimaced. “Do you know how long? Were you a baby?” A shake of her blonde curls soothed a bit of his worry. “Okay. Hmm—was it before you met Barry?” Another shake. “Okay…Was it before _Lenny_ met Barry?”

Lisa bit her lip, her brow scrunched. “Can’t remember,” she sulked. Then she shook her head again. “It was cold? There was snow.”

Joe frowned. That was a yes. This did not bode well. He sighed.

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s—”

“The hell are you doing here, West?”

The youngest Snart squeaked and disappeared behind the door, slamming it closed again. Joe sighed as he stood and turned. He shook his jacket out and dusted off his knees.

Behind him, Lewis Snart stood beside his son. Both were wearing all black—black jeans, black boots, black hooded jackets, black gloves, etc—and both had long streaks of some grey substance running through their hair and across their faces. The boy had his book bag thrown over one shoulder.

“Snart,” he greeted flatly. His eyes shifted to the side and down a bit, and his tone turned disappointed and disapproving. “Leonard.”

“It’s Len.”

“Quiet, boy,” Lewis snapped. “Answer the question, West.”

Joe crossed his arms. “Well, I came over here to see if you’d let Lisa stay the night. Iris got a new princess movie earlier this week, but she won’t watch it until she’s with Lisa.”

The other man grimaced, pulling his gloves off as he stepped toward the door. “Not tonight. Maybe next time, Joey.”

He sneered. “Don’t call me that.”

Lewis didn’t bother to reply to that. Instead, he stepped past the other detective and pushed the door open. “Let’s _go_ , Leo,” he called behind him before disappearing inside.

The boy, who’d been frozen on the sidewalk, began moving once more, walking calmly to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob.

“I’m sorry about my dad,” Len said. His tone was flat, his face completely serious, as usual. Joe got the feeling the rehearsed look was borne from repetition. “We were just down at the store, getting supplies for Lisa’s mom. She’s making alfredo for dinner tonight.”

“Is she?” Joe asked conversationally. “Because your sister said her mother’s been gone for months.”

“Lisa would forget what color shirt she was wearing if left to her own devices,” the boy replied mechanically.

There was a roar from inside. “ _Leo_!” This was followed quickly by a squeal.

Aahh, and there it was—Len flinched, his blue eyes shot wide with panic as his head whipped toward the door.

“C-Coming!”

And then he was gone, disappearing from the porch and slamming the door behind him. Behind it, there was a shout and another scream, followed by yet another shout. Then, silence.

Detective Joe West left the Snart House without looking back.

This was a mistake.

* * *

Leonard Snart wasn’t sure when, exactly, his father began his…lessons. He only knew that it had been a long, long time. Possibly since before Lisa was born.

The lessons used to be verbal, he was sure, in the beginning.

“Stop that crying, boy. Real men never cry.”

“That glass isn’t gonna pick itself up, now is it?”

“If I _ever_ see you pull something like that again, I swear to God, I’ll—”

And so on, and so forth. On and on and on and on it went. It must have lasted for a year, maybe even two or three. Len remembered, though, that it got especially terrible after Lisa turned three years old.

That was when the heists started.

Mostly, it was small-time stuff. Lewis had his crew of little men and buff fighters and pretty honey-potters, which meant that all Len had to do was disable the security system. Usually, that was pretty easy, especially after the first couple of houses, because most of the homes in town had the same type of system, and most of the businesses only had rudimentary codes in place.

Sometimes, though, when Len would get caught off-guard by a firewall that shouldn’t have been there, or a motion sensor that he _swore_ wasn’t there the other day—sometimes, he messed up. Sometimes, Lewis got angry over the botched plan. That was when he got physical.

The first time, it was a slap.

A slap turned into a punch that left him with a black eye and split lip for two weeks.

That turned into hand-shaped bruising lining his arms, which turned into cuts on his stomach and chest, which turned into scuff-marks on his back, which turned into swollen red marks circling his throat.

Basically, the only thing that was off-limits on Len was his hands and fingers. Everything else was fair game.

It only got worse when Len started hanging out with Barry.

Lewis started going after little five-year-old Lisa, and Len couldn’t have that, could he? So he did what he had to do. He kept Lisa safe, no matter what. If she wasn’t at school, she was with Len. If she wasn’t at school _or_ with Len, then she was at home and Len and Lewis were…out.

Len definitely made damn sure to never leave her alone with Lewis. Not ever.

Detective Joe West didn’t know any of this. His new son, Barry Allen, on the other hand?

Well, he may not know quite yet—but he would soon find out that his suspicions weren’t entirely unfounded. ** _  
_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry, boss."  
> -  
> “I know it’s in here. It’s gotta be—aha!”  
> -  
> “I said don’t look at that.”  
> “Fine. I won’t look. But at least explain it to me.”  
> “I think you know exactly what that was a drawing of.”  
> “Yes.”  
> “Then I don’t have to explain.”  
> “Barry.”  
> “Len.”  
> -  
> “Did you seriously draw reflections in the mirrors?”  
> “They’re not reflections.”  
> “Shut up, Lenny! Why did you even say anything?!”  
> “Then what the he—Bartholomew Allen, what the hell!”  
> -  
> “What?”  
> “Dude, when did you get so scary?”  
> -  
> "Yo soy más que capaz de cuidar de mí mismo cuando lo necesito."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the end for scenes from the next chapter...

It happened slowly, Barry’s return to normal. So slowly that everyone almost missed it.

Everyone but Len, that is. Len couldn’t have missed it if he tried—he was practically responsible for it, after all.

It wasn’t enough for Barry to let himself feel, to let himself drift back to where he was before. He still needed a push to get back to his old self. Iris was part of it, and she helped a lot. But the process was too slow for the rest of Barry’s friends. They wanted him back _now_.

Len started interfering.

He started slow, with little things. A comic book, or a new sketchpad. He _acquired_ a couple of key chains, bragging about them all day until Barry finally lectured him about stealing. He organized Barry’s industrial-sized pencil box, bunching similar colors together and putting the ones Barry liked most on the bottom—when he went searching for his favorite color, he let out little frustrated huffs as he dug through the collection.

As the weeks passed and the days got colder, things escalated.

Len brought Lisa with him to the West House one day while the younger boy was at the library with Iris and Cisco, sneaking in through Iris’ bedroom window and digging through Barry’s shirts and jackets, pulling all the red-colored fabric from where it was stuffed in the bottom of the drawers and folding them neatly on top.

He stole Barry’s homework a couple of times, then watched as he had a sweet and polite talk with their teacher to explain how he lost it.

When he had to borrow his memory cards one time, he purposely gave them back mismatched and disorganized—their fight lasted for three days, and when Len finally “apologized” and got a dazzling smile in return, he was filled with prideful smugness the rest of the week.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Barry was laughing at a gruff remark from Mick and stealing one of Ronnie’s fruit cups. (He had three, anyway.)

All fourteen Rogues were lined up around the table. Iris was at one end of the bench and had an empty seat to her left; she was sitting just to the left of her foster brother, who had Len to his right. Shawna sat between Len and Mick while the latter had Axel on his right side, and beside Axel, on the other end of the bench, was Hartley. Across from Hartley sat Sam, who had Rosa at his right hand while her other side was occupied by Cisco. Cisco had Ronnie to his right and Bette sat just on the other side of the mechanic and had an empty seat to her right that separated her from Roy. On Roy’s other side was Mark, sitting sideways so his back was turned toward the edge of the bench and his front was facing Roy.

Axel was the only one who wasn’t supposed to be there; technically, the sixth grade class was separated at all times from the “lower grades”—no one really knew why sixth graders were so important, but no one really cared all that much, either. Regardless, Axel never stayed where he was supposed to. Not unless one of the Ruling Rogues (i.e. Len, Mick, Shawna, Barry, Iris, Hartley, or Mark) told him to, that is. Mostly, nobody even tried anymore.

The reason Ronnie had so many fruit cups was actually because he and Bette were the Rogues who talked most often with the Committee kids, besides maybe Barry, when he was feeling up to it.

Basically, Committee members came to them whenever they wanted to vent about something the Horde was doing, or whenever someone wanted to have a meeting with the Rogues, Len in particular. Len had repeatedly told them that they should just come directly to him, but they didn’t listen, and lately, he’d been refusing to talk to any of them, anyway, because he was focused on keeping his own crew together.

Anyway, whenever Ronnie and Bette met with one of the Committee kids, they’d feel the need to, like…give them something? It was really weird to the Rogues, but the members of the Committee were _really insistent_ , and—well, nobody really wanted to be stuck in a conversation with them for _that_ long, so eventually they just gave in. Sometimes, the “payment” was a new eraser. Most of the time, though, it was some sort of food; fruit cups were on the menu today, it seemed, but it might have been animal crackers or gummy bears or even slices of pizza.

(That last one only happened the once, and it was a total disaster. Don’t even ask. Shawna gets flashbacks.)

So, really, Barry was just…helping Ronnie out when he gestured for Bette to pass him one of Ronnie’s fruit cups. Ronnie barely glanced up when she snatched it and handed it across the table.

The green-eyed boy pulled a red Sharpie from his pocket, drawing a quick note on the plastic top before passing it to Len under the table.

Len looked at him for a minute, feeling the cold cup in his palm.

Barry grinned at him, nodding before turning to Roy. They were trading extra pencils with each other from across the table—last week, their collections had gotten mixed with each other’s so they had doubles of some colors and none of a few more.

(But Len didn’t know anything about that— _wink wink_.)

Glancing under the table quickly, Len read the note. _For Lisa_ , it read in Barry’s tiny, crooked handwriting. _Happy Thanksgiving._

Len smiled quietly, tucking the fruit into his bag and jostling Barry with his shoulder. He snorted when the other boy almost fell out of his seat, then squawked when he nearly pulled _him_ out of his own seat when he tried to pull himself up by Len’s jacket. Shawna hooked an arm around his neck, saving them both but nearly choking him in the process.

Len coughed when they were balanced again. “Baez.”

“Sorry, boss,” she said, jumping and letting him go. “My bad.”

He pat his chest, taking a breath. “No problem. Thanks, anyway.”

Barry was breathing heavy beside him, leaning an arm on his shoulder with wide eyes as he tried to calm down. “Whoa, that was wild,” he giggled after a minute.

Len snorted, trying to dislodge his elbow from where it was digging into his collarbone. He huffed when Barry just readjusted so his arm was across the back of his neck and he was leaning his head on Len’s shoulder—tried not to wince when the movement caused his hoodie to rub against a particularly bad bruise from the week before.

“You’re so clingy today, Bear,” he drawled. “What’s up?”

On Barry’s other side, Iris laughed. When she leaned around to look at Len, though, her gaze was hard. _Don’t cause a setback_ , she didn’t say.

“Oh, Lenny. Barry’s just excited. Thanksgiving is his favorite holiday, you know, besides Christmas.”

“Christmas is your favorite holiday, Bear?” Mark asked, sitting across from Iris. “I’d’a thought you’d like the Fourth more. Ya know, all that _red_?”

Barry flushed high in his cheeks, retracting his arm from Len and curling into himself. He was careful not to touch anybody for a minute as he stuttered a response. “Christmas has red, too!”

“Why ya like Christmas?” Len asked. “Just like getting stuff?”

Barry snapped a look at him. “No,” he spat.

Len leaned away, surprised. Green eyes widened as Barry’s face turned even redder.

“I—I mean—I didn’t mean to…I just…I don’t like _getting_ stuff. I get that people give each other presents, and I love seeing people happy. I like _giving_ gifts. When—uh, well—wh—when I get older, and I start working, I’m gonna go Christmas shopping. But—But for now, I just…I make things. And I give them to people. Because I like helping people and seeing them happy.”

He gazed at Len, leaning into his space a little with a pleading stare. “Whatta ya like, Lenny? I already got presents for everybody else—or, I guess I already got _ideas_ for presents for everybody else. But I don’t know what you like. Except for math and lock picking.”

Len just blinked at him. A moment later, he blurted, “That’s not true. You know I like blue.”

Barry’s eyes crinkled with a sunny smile as he laughed and leaned back. “Good point, Lenny. You do wear a lot of blue. Kinda like me and red, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Sure.”

“Oh! And you love your little sister!” Barry cheered. “Which reminds me.”

Len watched, confused, as Barry dragged his book bag from under the table, digging through it almost violently. Len shared a glance with Iris, who shrugged, and with a couple of their other tablemates, who were all watching Barry closely. He turned his attention back to the boy and the bag.

“I know it’s in here,” Barry was muttering. “It’s gotta be—aha!”

With a yank, he pulled out a large, bent-up sketchpad. He tossed his bag back under the table before wiggling and bending the notebook in his hands to smooth the pages inside.

“So, I know that me and you and Iris are—uh, like…best friends now,” Barry started with a stammer as he flipped through the book. “But I drew a picture a coupl’a years ago, when I met Lisa for the first time.” He shared a smile with Iris. “I drew Iris that day, too. I think it’s still in her room.”

“Totally, Barry,” the girl chirped. “It was cute!”

“Well, after I met little Lisa, I drew her, too!” Barry laughed triumphantly as he found the page, turning it and sliding it in front of Len. “So, like, if you wanna keep it, or give it to Lisa, you can. This was my second sketchbook, see, so the page is close to the beginning. There’s other stuff in there, too, of Lisa and Iris and…you, probably, too. And maybe school and the Rogues. I dunno. But I got a new one, anyway, so I don’t need it anymore. If you want, you can keep it.”

“Hey, if there’s any pictures of me in that book, I want ‘em,” Cisco said. “Gotta see what I look like to you, man.”

“Sure,” Barry replied easily. “I just wanted Len to see it, cuz that drawing’s the biggest one in there, and it’s of his sister, so…”

Len wasn’t really listening, too busy staring at the drawing in front of him.

It was perfect—you could see the light in Lisa’s eyes, the way Iris’ hair curled delicately through her silver crown, every fold and crease and jewel in their dresses. Barry captured Iris’ exact skin tone and Lisa’s twinkling smile and the angle of their elbows around each other.

He’d never seen anything like it. It was just so _lifelike_.

Mick reached around Shawna and clapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. “Leonard.” He raised a brow at the quiet boy, but he just jerked his head toward the rest of the table. “Kids wanna know whatcha got.”

Len snorted at the statement.

A couple of months ago, the Rogues had (not-so-secretly) decided that Len and Mick were the unofficial parents of the group. Len was the mom, (generally) keeping everyone out of trouble and going a little psycho whenever anyone was being hurt. Mick was the dad, since he was the main instigator of every absolutely horrible idea ever thought up, but was also the biggest protector in the group.

A few others had titles, too. Shawna was the fun aunt, Bette was the serious aunt, Mark was the crazy uncle, Iris was the grandmother. Cisco wanted to make Barry the fun grandpa because of his crush on Iris, but he wasn’t being very fun at the time, and Len was skeptical of having Barry in any position of authority when he was just like Cisco.

Cisco, who was labeled one of the “kids” along with Ronnie, Sam, Rosa, Axel, and Hartley.

(Roy was technically a kid, too, but everyone called him the Boo Radley of the group—everyone except Barry, Iris, Shawna, Len, and Mick, at least.)

Len hadn’t realized that Mick had been paying attention, or that he actually agreed with the labels. That was interesting. They’d need to talk about that, at some point. But first…

He turned to the group, shrugging at them in answer, before looking back at Barry with a searching gaze.

Len nodded slowly. “Nice drawing, kid. Ya sure you wanna go into science?”

Barry glanced down at the picture, picking at the edge of the table with a fingernail. After a minute, he gave Len a firm nod, his eyes as hard as shining emeralds. It was more determination than he’d seen in Barry for months.

It was beautiful.

“Yes,” Barry said quietly. “Art won’t help my dad. Science? Anything is possible through science.” He blinked. “One day…One day, I’m gonna make the impossible happen. And then I’ll prove my dad isn’t guilty. That he didn’t do anything. And then they’ll have to catch the man in yellow, right? That’s the only thing that matters.”

Len observed Barry for a minute, not speaking. For once, Barry didn’t break the gaze; he just met him head-on. Len continued the staring contest for three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Then he smirked.

“Good,” he drawled. His grin widened as he watched Barry’s cheeks redden and his eyes blink in surprise. “Come on, Allen. CCPD is full of idiots. They’re gonna need somebody to figure stuff out for ‘em, cuz they’re obviously not doin’ nothin’ now.”

Barry blinked a few more times, then offered a tiny smile and a quiet, “Thanks, Len.”

Across the table, Cisco leaned over to Ronnie and tapped his shoulder.

The other boy glanced up, momentarily distracted from the English homework in front of him. “Huh?”

Quietly, so that Len and Barry couldn’t hear, Cisco muttered, “Maybe Barry shouldn’t be the grandpa.”

Ronnie’s brow scrunched in confusion, and Cisco flicked a look across the table. He glanced over, his gaze raking over the scene critically—Len smirking as he flipped through the sketchbook in front of him, Barry’s timid grin and shining eyes as he answered Len’s questions.

Really? They could at least _try_ to hide it! Jeez. They were one step away from holding hands under the table!

Ronnie snorted, looking back at Cisco. “I wonder if Dad knows Mom’s cheating,” he whispered back.

Cisco shrugged. “Dunno, man.” In front of him, Mick smirked, jerking his head in a nod. Cisco coughed on a laugh. “Guess that’s your answer.”

Len turned the page again and froze. “Barry.”

The other boy glanced over briefly, and his face was instantly stark-white. “D—Don’t look at that.”

“Barry, what is this?”

Barry grabbed at the notebook, flipping all the way back to the beginning and slamming the book back down. “I said _don’t look at that_.”

Len’s gaze was hard as he took the book back. “Fine. I won’t look. But at least explain it to me.”

“I think you know exactly what that was a drawing of.”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t have to explain.”

“ _Barry_.”

“ _Len_.”

“O- _kay_ , boys,” Iris cut in. She laughed nervously. “Maybe just take a sec and chill, okay?”

The ignored her.

“Barry, why did you—”

“I just did, okay? Can we drop it?”

Roy tapped Iris’ wrist. “What did he draw?” Iris hesitated. “It’s okay.”

“His mom.”

In a split second, everyone went from confused to completely on-edge, waiting for the inevitable freak-out.

It never came.

Instead, Len frowned at Barry for a solid minute, taking in his pallid face and his shaking fingers, noticing the shiny look in his eyes. And then he sighed.

“Okay, Barry,” Len said. “I’ll drop it. For now.”

Barry sighed in relief and gave Len a small—teeny-tiny, really—smile. “Thank you.”

Len’s mouth twitched up just a bit. It was enough for the rest of the table’s occupants to relax and return to their own activities. Len went back to flipping through the art notebook, this time in silence. The rest of the table was enveloped in conversation, but the corner with Len, Barry, and Iris, was quiet for a few minutes.

“Look, Ramon,” Len said suddenly, flipping the book over so it was facing the right way. He pointed. “It’s you.”

Cisco gave him a skeptical look before tugging the page closer. His face lit up when he saw the picture. “Whoa! Dang, Barry, you got it goin’ on! Ronnie, look at this.”

It was a cute little drawing of the Rogues sitting outside at lunch. Cisco, Mark, Shawna, and Bette were at the center of the picture, building tiny structures out of popsicle sticks for math class. In the bottom right corner of the page, the top of a knee (it must have been Barry’s knee, because there was a little drawing of a rain cloud from when Mark got bored in science one day) and the edge of a shoe (judging by the _Len Snart_ carved into the toe…well) were visible.

Ronnie pointed at the left edge. “What’s that?”

Barry leaned over, tilting his head to see it a bit better. “Oh, uh…it’s hair.”

“Your hair isn’t that long.”

“Not _my_ hair,” Barry explained, rolling his eyes. “ _Iris’_ hair. She fell asleep on my shoulder; I didn’t wanna wake her up just to move her hair.”

“And the shoe?”

He shot a heatless glare at Len. “You know Lenny,” he drawled. “He’s gonna do what he wants. Besides, it adds focus to the shot.” He shrugged, his grin guileless. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Cisco said quickly. “You even got Roy and Ronnie bickering in the background, and Sam and Rosa looking in their mirrors. It’s cute.”

“Did you see Axel and Hartley?” Len asked.

“No, I don’t—oh, there they are.”

In the upper left corner, Axel was jabbering away—there were little exclamation marks around his head—and throwing paper airplanes at Hartley, who was trying to color-code his binder. You could see the excitement in Axel’s tiny body _and_ the annoyance on Hart’s face. It only took up about a square inch of the paper, but the detail was perfect.

Suddenly, the notebook was gone. Cisco and Ronnie both blinked, sitting back. They glanced over in time to see Axel sitting back down, plopping the book down onto the table in front of him and Hartley.

“Look, Ratty!” he cheered with a grin. “Ain’t I cute?”

“Adorable,” Hartley replied flatly. He shot Axel a glare as he jerked the picture closer to himself, as if to say, _Back off or I’ll tell the lower-grade teachers you snuck out. Again._ He only gazed quietly at it for a moment before he leaned over and called for the artist’s attention. “Where’s Mick?”

The hothead didn’t even glance over when he reached around Axel and tapped a part of the picture. “There,” he grunted.

Sure enough, if you looked just past Len’s leg in the drawing, you could see the edge of a thin shoulder, the back of Mick’s spiky hair, and part of the side of his face—enough to see his downcast eyes. He had his hand raised to hover in front of his nose; in it, he held a little (empty) match box. He was picking the flint off the edges, watching it flake onto the grass in front of him.

Hartley nodded in acknowledgement. “Seems about right.”

Across the table, Sam was leaning over his tray to look. “Did you seriously draw reflections in the mirrors?”

Len snorted into his water bottle. “They’re not reflections.”

Barry flushed red from his hairline to his collar, and he hit Len’s shoulder. The older boy flinched; Barry winced only slightly before continuing.

“Shut _up_ , Lenny!” he hissed fiercely, pouting. “Why did you even say anything?!”

Rosa dragged the portrait to her side, rolling her eyes before looking at it closely. “Then what the he— _Bartholomew Allen, what the hell!_ ”

Barry flinched back, almost toppling from the bench if Iris and Len hadn’t instinctively grabbed his arms to haul him up.

“I—I, uh—” He winced. “Uh, I’m…sorry?” Rosa glared at him harshly. “I’m sorry!” he squeaked again. “I’m sorry! It’s just—I thought it was funny…at the time…I mean, you’re always looking in those mirrors, and…I dunno…I’m really sorry, please don’t hurt me!”

Sam finally picked up on what it actually was, and he just started laughing. “Nice gorgons, Allen,” he snickered.

Rosa just kept glaring at the artist. After a minute of squeaked apologies, though, she sighed. Her face softened. She even smiled a bit.

“You get _one_ , B,” she warned. “And only because it’s nice to have you back.” Her yellow-green eyes narrowed. “But don’t you _ever_ draw me as Medusa ever again. Got it, kid?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I—I promise. Never again.”

“Ahh, cowering beneath the stare of a beautiful woman. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, little one.”

Cisco grimaced, shaking the new weight from his shoulders. “ _Déjalo solo_ , _Dante_ ,” he groused at his brother. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be in class? _At the middle school_?”

“Study hall,” the older Ramon said with a smirk. “And what’s wrong, _hermanito_?” He pushed a space between Cisco and Rosa so he could sit down. “Afraid the baby can’t take it? Eh, you’re probably right. After all, he’s never had to defend himself.”

Barry scoffed, drawing his attention.

“I don’t know where you’ve been the last eleven years, Ramon, but: Newsflash! _Yo soy más que capaz de cuidar de mí mismo cuando lo necesito_. Here’s a little secret you may not know, though.”

He leaned forward, clearing his throat and looking the older boy in the eyes.

In a whisper, he told him, “My friends? They’re a whole lot scarier than my enemies. I’d watch your back.” He winked at the boy, giving him a vicious grin. “If not because of my own capabilities, then at _least_ Lenny’s, Mick’s, and Rosa’s, huh? They could take you out permanently. Not to mention Iris, Shawna, and Mark—just think of all the dirt they could get on you. Definitely enough to get your applications to Carnegie thrown out.”

Dante inched back from Barry’s feral expression, his eyes wider than normal. His voice was steady, though, when he spoke. “Just gonna let your guard dogs do your work for you, _Bartolomé_? Afraid you’ll end up the same place as your dad?”

Suddenly, the smile dropped from Barry’s face. His eyes hardened fiercely as he stood from the bench.

Len grabbed at his forearm. “Barry—”

He shook him off, growling, “No, Len.”

Quick as a whip, he leaned over the table and hauled Dante up and over towards him by the collar of his jacket.

“ _Escucha_ —listen carefully, _Dante_ ,” he spat. “My dad is _not_ a murderer. He didn’t do _anything_. Got it? I will _not_ stand for people insulting him at every turn.” He shook the older boy, adrenaline making him stronger than usual. “And if you think for even a _second_ that I’m not _just_ as _dangerous_ as the rest of the Rogues Gallery—or that I’m not _just_ as _protective_ of _each and every one of them_ as they are of me—well.” They were nose to nose at this point. Barry’s manic grin returned, along with a new light in his emerald eyes. “Better _not_ to think that, yeah? Unless you wanna find out how far I’ll go. I don’t care if you’re Cisco’s big brother—you talk down to me or anyone in this crew ever again, you won’t have to worry about my _guard dogs_. Just _me_.”

Barry let Dante go just as fast as he’d grabbed him, giving him a little push that sent him flailing back into his seat. He was up a second later, jumping from the bench and taking off like Road Runner with astonished stares following him for a minute before they went back to their little friend.

The younger boy’s cheerful, guileless smile was back in place as he sat back and turned to his oldest friend. It was like nothing ever happened.

“Hey, Iris, can I have your granola bar?” He leaned his chin in his palm, wrinkling his nose. “I’m really hungry, but I already ate my sandwich.”

Iris just laughed, handing the bar over. “Have at it. Dad gave me a banana and cashew one today by accident—those always have a weird taste to me anyway.”

“Awesome!” Barry cheered as he ripped it open. “I dunno wha’ ya mean, Ir’s,” he told her around a bite. “These ‘re zuh besss-t. Much betta zehn-uh or’ge and pec’n ones.”

“No way. That orange flavoring is nasty. And I’m pretty sure the pe- _cahns_ are fake.”

“Pe- _cans_.”

“No.”

He just nodded in disagreement, his mouth too full to talk now. As he swallowed and made to speak again, he noticed the silence pervading the group. He looked over and found everyone watching him blankly.

His brow scrunched together as he frowned lightly. “What?”

Ronnie snapped out of it first. “Dude, when did you get so _scary_?”

Barry blushed down to his collar. “Uh—uh…uh,” he stuttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry, Cisco. I shouldn’t have said that to your brother, but—but I just…I’m just tired of everything. Everybody’s always defending me. And I know I don’t—I’m not—I just—I just want everyone to be left alone. I just wanna be left _alone_. I’m sorry.”

He sniffled, hanging his head and picking at the table in front of him.

Len clapped a hand on his shoulder and kept it there until he looked up. He smirked. “I think you’ve been hangin’ out with me and Mick way too long, kid. That was a nice speech—very scary. Good job.”

Barry blinked. “I—uh, I—th—thank…you?”

Mark snorted—the harsh sound broke the rest of them out of their thoughts.

“Good to see you’re still Barry, though, Barry,” he told him with a chuckle, but he nodded his acknowledgement.

Cisco looked thoughtful suddenly. “You’re pronunciation has gotten better,” he said in a dazed voice. “You’re getting _way_ better with the accented vowels, I think. What do you think, Rat?”

Hartley nodded briefly, but scrunched his nose a second later as he looked at Barry with a critic’s eye. “Didn’t really see you as the defensive sort, Allen,” he observed. “Or protective.”

Barry shrugged, the movement jostling Len away from him, and looked back down at the table. He took a small, sad bite of the granola bar, and then he grumbled, “I usually don’t…I’m not normally like that. I don’t know why I did that. I just—don’t know…”

He sniffed again, finishing the food and crumpling the wrapper in his hand. He didn’t look up. Not as he stood from his seat and gathered his trash together, or when he zipped up his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

Not even when he spoke.

“Roy, I’ll see you in Art. Len, Mark, Ronnie…” He hesitated for a split second; it wasn’t enough for anyone but Len and Iris to really notice. “…Cisco. I’ll see you in Math. I’m gonna head to the library for the rest of study hall. I think there’s a new manga shipment coming in today, and I wanna reserve a couple books for when we get back from break. See you guys later.”

With that, he disappeared back inside, leaving the rest of the Rogues staring after him in quiet concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No, I won’t—I can’t do that. I just—I’m not okay, Iris. I’m not. Maybe I never have been, I don’t—Iris, there's something wrong with me."  
> -  
> “Is that why you snapped at the older Ramon today? Because you feel like you don’t belong in the Rogues?”  
> -  
> "I don’t need anybody fighting my battles for me. I never have. I bet Len and Iris and Mark and probably Hartley think I can’t, but I can. I’m fine.”  
> “Barry. Are you telling me this? Or yourself?”  
> -  
> "Just like his old man.”  
> “Don’t talk about my dad, Woodward."  
> -  
> “You wanna fight one of us? You fight me. No one else.”  
> -  
> “Are you okay to take him to the nurse, Lenny? I can’t skip another Chorus or the teacher will kill me.”  
> -  
> “You don’t know my combo.”  
> “Don’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay that's all I've got so far! But I'm working on more.
> 
> So basically I'm starting over with this AU. This story is a lot better than TCOTOM, so I'm really just using this from now on. I'll leave the others up for people who want to read them, but they aren't going to be continued.
> 
> Anyway, I'm working to try and update as much as possible, but those of you reading this probably already know I don't do well with scheduled updates so...yeah.
> 
> I'm also working on an IceSkating!AU--check me out on tumblr if you have ideas on that front--it's under the tag "pairs skating au" on my tumblr deathloveshischicagopizza
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr at any time! (And I mean any time, I'm almost always awake and if I'm not then I always answer things as soon as I wake up anyway.)


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